


Unfortunate Technicalities

by TheOneKrafter



Series: Sufficiently Self-Inserted [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bending (Avatar), Bisexual Female Character, Blood Magic, But only a little, Canon Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassandra (Dragon Age) is Concerned, Cole (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, Crying, Cussing, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Try This At Home, Drunkness, Emotion centric, Exhausion, F/F, F/M, Family, Ferelden, Fifteen year old Inquisitor, Fluffy, Freckled jesus have mercy, Gen, Grief, Haven (Dragon Age), Homophobia, Humor, I Don't Even Know, Idk what I’m doing, If You Squint - Freeform, Kids, M/M, MC is a dorky fan of Avatar, MC is scared of Cassandra, MGiT, Mage Rebellion, Mage Rights, Mage Rights or Mage Fights, Mage-Templar War, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages aren’t a Joke, Magic, Magic Lessons, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Modern Girl in Thedas, Mother Hen, My First Work in This Fandom, No Cullen romance, No Smut, No Solas romance, Not for real, Original Character(s), Orlais, Peace, Platonic Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Scary Cassandra, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Shit this is a lot of tags, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Solas is a Fade nerd, Sort of Adoption, Students, Suicidal Thoughts, Teaching, The Fade, This is literally only for my entertainment, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tranquil Mages, Trauma, Uncle Varric Tethras, Underage Drinking, Underage Intoxication, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, Violence on a Minor, Weird update schedule, What Have I Done, Young Inquisitor (Dragon Age), but only sort of, chosen family, everyone is concerned, lying, magic is dangerous, mentions of abuse, my readers must be concerned, nah thats more for smut, no betas we die like men, references, seriously, shameless self insert, so wait do I put the underage tag, solas is concerned, staffless magic, teacher, tired, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-06-28 12:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneKrafter/pseuds/TheOneKrafter
Summary: The Conclave went boom, someone replaced the would be Herald with a fifteen-year-old, and no one is sure of themselves.Honestly, this sucks if you ask Zoe. She didn't sign up to be the unfortunate protagonist of an MGIT, and she isnotthe hero material anyone was looking for.(My contribution to the MGIT pocket of Dragon Age. There won't be any Solas/OC or Cullen/OC since everyone does one of those.)





	1. Well, Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Before you stumble into my sandbox, let you be warned!
> 
> This is VERY emotion centric, it focuses on grief, loss, and trying to get through it. If you want a fic where the main character is calm and happy about being in a different reality, this probably isn't for you. It will get happier, but at the start it's bleak. 
> 
> You've been forewarned! Now turn back, or journey onward!

I shouldn't be doing this.

“Someone! Please! Help me!” A French- _Orleasion_ woman shouts behind the ridiculously large oaken doors, pure _desperation and heart stopping fear_ seeping through the wood.

 What's right, and what's meant to be?

 No future Inquisitor is nearby, most people are in the library or one of the many offices.

 Fuck. I'm just a kid, I'm just _fifteen_ how I'm the hell am I going to save this foreign world?

 My heart is pounding and oh no I'm going to cry-

 With a mighty clang, I slam the doors open, a horrible grimace on my face as I take in that bird look _in’ asswipe that’s going to murder me._

 “The fuck is going on here?!” I shout because I need to let something out before my chest bursts. The bird peers down at me with disdain and his eyes narrowed. Gods, how could you do something like that to your face? How could you allow something so corrupt to _grow_ on you like a parasite?

 “Foolish girl, you have no idea what you’re intruding upon. Kill her.” Coriphy-shit says with irritated wave of his hand, and the Grey Wardens- _the look in their eyes is glassy and reddish. Tainted by the blood magic binding them to the false god_ \- start walking towards me with swords and staffs drawn.

 The Divine chooses this moment to kick the stupid ass Solas sphere at me and the one thing I remember is ‘ _shit grab it with your left-!_ ’

 Time and space magic **_bullshit_ **. Do I look like The Doctor’s companion to you?

* * *

 

 Pain and chafing wrists, the soft clink of chains hitting each other when I shift- My left-hand feels like it's being scrapped out from the inside.

 My eyes shoot open and I only have a moment to _appreciate_ the terrible dungeon I'm in before bright ass fucking green fills my vision and pain decides to shoot up my forearm by it’s veins.

 I'm not ashamed to admit a ugly sob breaks its way out of my mouth at the feeling, nor ashamed to know my watering eyes let a few tears fall.

 The door to the cell opens with a unceremonious clank that terrifies the shit out of me while I'm still reeling from the mark’s growing. What's scarier? The face of a terribly pissed and murderous Cassandra Pentaghast, Right hand to the Divine and ready to disembowel me, or the knowledge that I'm going to loose my left arm?

 God, if you’re out there? Don't let me die before twenty. Hell, I'll take eighteen. Just make me _legal_ first.

 I try to jerk away when Cassandra goes for my still glowing hand, stopped by the chains anyways, but it doesn't stop me from flinching _hard_ as she tugs me back forward with it.

 “What is this?! Answer me prisoner!” She yells and _oh my god no panic attacks in Thedas please. I know exactly what that terrible tremble in my hands is godfucking damnit._

 “I- _I don't know._ ” I almost sob. She's legitimately terrifying, twice my age, and much stronger. She could actually kill me right now and it'd be _easy_.

 She shoves the hand back into my chest with a glare and I honest to god _whimper_.

 She takes a step back and blinks, genuinely surprised by the way I'm trying to make myself smaller and scoot as far from her as possible. Yeah Cass, you’re terrifying a kid right now and make me want to cry for my mommy. _Oh god. Never gonna see mom again am I-?_

Fuck. Not right now.

 “I-” Cassandra starts looking lost, but Leliana only puts a hand on her shoulder. “Take her to the forward camp. Right now sealing the breach is more important.” She says not sparing me a glance.

 Oh no. _Demons_.

  _Dead fucking bodies lines up in rows with a lone sister praying over them, a man near the side seemingly ignored while he rocks himself back and forth. He's having a mental breakdown and no one stops to help because there's a hole in the sky and their friends and families and_ **_Divine_ ** _are all dead._

 Why this universe? Why no Ouran Highschool Host Club where I can live in comfort and no one is _dying._

 In my panic I don't notice that Leliana has already left and Cassandra is quietly unlocking my shackles. Is it possible for guilt to really roll of of someone? Her lips are pinched, brows furrowed, and a self deprecating frown on her face as if to say ‘ _You fucked up again. Already, Cassandra?_ ’.

 I guess my babyface probably has something to do with it. Or the fact that I _whimpered._ God I hope I never have to mention that to anyone.

 “Follow me.” The Nevarrian states, walking out the door quickly.

 Stumbling to my feet I rub my wrists with a wince. You can do this Zoe. You can fucking _do this._

 Walking out of the door and up into the Chantry prior I don't bother looking at the Sisters and few Mother’s looking at me scornfully. I get it, it's like I've been caught green handed.

 Cassandra leads the way and stops to look at-

 At The Breach.

 A tear in the veil that spits out demons every minute and thunders. Growing like it has fingers reaching outward to tear this reality apart.

 It grows with another low thunderous sound and I'm suddenly being helped up from my knees by callused hands.

 “This is the Breach, the product of the explosion at the Temple and a tear in the Veil itself.” She explains and I nod with watery eyes. “Every time it grows that mark on your hand does so as well. It's killing you.”

 I give a choked laugh, because this is just like one of those fanfictions I kept reading all the time.

 “You think it will close it.” I mutter. “I'll try to or die trying Seeker Pentaghast, don't worry about me.” I finish lowly, because for all of this madness it's true. Even if I'm in some backwater terrible ass-end of a different world I'll be damned if I don't do anything to help it.

 My fucking heart will end me today or soon. Stupid Divergent test and it’s ‘Erudite _and_ Amity’ bullshit proving true.

 Cassandra nods, but doesn't let go of my hand as she tugs me along with her other hand on the pommel of her sword. She's looking at the people around us who give me bad looks, and the people around us look at me, this pitiful looking thing who looks terrified out of her damned mind.

 All of this self worth bullshit isn't relevant right now. Focus on that confidence you’ve kept alive despite the fires of _Puberty_. Fuck periods are going to be a bitch in Thedas.

 “The people of Haven have already decided you’re guilt. Their hearts mourn their lost and the Divine, so they lash out like the sky.” Cassandra explains quietly, and it's funny, I remember those lines being much more heated in the game.

 I really do change things don't I? The Inquisitor was a grown ass adult and I’m a teenager just entering Sophomore year. Not to mention I've got a scholar’s fingers and obviously haven't swung a sword in my whole life. Give me a little Dagger and I'm good to go but a two pound sharp metal stick? No thanks.

  _Keep monologuing. It's a coping mechanism that's keeping you from breaking down Zo-zo._

 Fuck that sounded just like my best friend. Keep moving Zoe. _Focus._

 Before we head off the first bridge - _oh god bodies in rows_ \- while the scouts open the gates Cassandra draws her sword and looks me in the eye.

 “I can promise there will be a trial, but we must close the breach first.”

 Another change. Gods have mercy I hope I don't die before I've tried booze.

* * *

Unlike the game, there is no convenient crate of weapons for me to kill the shade with. Thanks a fucking lot Maker. Piece of shit.

So you know what I do?

I duck under its clawed strike and punch my fist right into it, _freezing it from the inside out_.

It shrieks a nightmare inducing sound that makes me want to crawl in the bloodied snow and stay there, but I only tear my hand out and watch with morbid satisfaction as it falls back and shatters into a million different shaped pieces.

 _A mysterious prisoner is suspicious. A fucking_ **_Apostate_ ** _prisoner already has the noose around their neck._

I'm lifting my hands up in instant defense before Cassandra is even close, words of “You’re a mage-?!” Dying on her lips. 

“I’m a dirty apostate, and _you’re_ a Seeker. Why _would_ I tell you…?” I mutter slowly putting my arms down with a frown on my face. It's not like I just figured the Mage thing out or anything. Nope. Not at _fucking_ all.

Cassandra looks like she wants to reply to that but only shakes her head with a scowl.

“I should remember you came willingly. Are you wounded?”

With my quick shake of no she nods and starts of again with a fire in her step.

She's powerful and awe inspiring when she fights, this Amazonian. She'd make any warrior woman jealous of her skill in battle and looking good while doing it. Even if her glare makes me want to pee my freaking pants. Several more demons fall to her blade _or_ shield while I send ice up and impale her targets from the ground with a quick stomp of my foot.

I'm so happy these things aren't people. _So. Happy._  

I don't think I can stomach anything but demons, and this still makes me a little guilty.

I keep from getting more than nicked on my right upper arm, two scratches lining the side of it. They’de faded to silvery scars seconds after Cassandra practically shoved a potion at me, muttering something about them fading away in a week or so.

When we finally come close to where Solas and Varric are hanging around, I feel the pull of the anchor to two different somethings. A faint one to Solas, and a large one to the tear. I don't know why I'm noticing it, but it's weird as hell feeling how… _kindred_ his magic and the anchor’s is. The anchor is like some bastard child of Solas’s subdued primal magic and Coryphy-shit’s corrosive _scary as hell_ magic.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears when I hop down to the fight with Cassandra, attempting not to clutch my jacket in my anxiety to stop my trembling hands, so I can start throwing the elements at demons.

Holy shit I'm fighting _demons._

It'd be cool if I hadn't seen _so many_ bodies so far.

I send a icicle through a Shade that was going for Varric with his back turned, pinning it to the stone wall and sending another spike of ice up from under it to kill it. 

_Just like water bending, don't think about it too much._

“Quickly! Before more come through." 

A warm hand grabs my left wrist and by instinct I'm sealing the rift shut. 

I stumble back a little when Solas lets my hand drop, and I give him a little nod.

“Ah, thank you.” I say, running my fingers through my hair in habit. He just shakes his head with a serene smile that almost(?) looks forced. Hell if I know, I don't presume to know the mind of a ancient eleven god.

“The doing was yours, I simply helped you along.” He says.

“It was the mark, not me. I couldn't close tears in the veil before the thing was smacked on my hand.” I grumble with a sigh, fingering my jacket. Why do I have to talk to people when the world is ending? Damned plot. Damned Kayuga, bet that Moon Goddess had something to do with this on sheer principle. Fucking around with mortals is her thing.

“Even so, it is a feat to have gotten this far at all. I'm glad to see you still live.”

“What he means is, ‘I'm the one who kept you alive while you slept.’ Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, occasional unwelcome tag along. And you are?” Varric pipes in and I find myself smiling and lifting an eyebrow.

“Zoe Avery. It's nice to meet you.” I say, resisting the urge to hold out a hand for him to shake.

“You may rethink that in time. If there are to be introductions, I am Solas.”

From there the conversation slowly dies off, and we set off towards the goal. The Breach.

* * *

I wake up four days later very much not in the generic not very appealing Herald clothes, so I change into the fluffy Avvar clothes anyways because it's _freaking cold_ and I live in fucking _Florida._

Under my clothes is a necklace with the Saint of Travel on it that I distinctly remember losing. A joke, probably.

Instead of waiting to scare the crap out of that poor elven lady, I sneak out the window and shimmy up the rock face to avoid all the people lined up. Like _hell_ I’m being paraded around like some side show Jesus man. Religious figure or not I don't do that crap.

Pulling myself up with a grunt I ignore what people who are staring and head straight for the Chantry, snow crunching under boot while I go over the plot in my head.

Protologue, Hinterlands mess with Mother what's her face, Val Royeaux where I recruit Viv and Sera and yell at the Envy shit who punched that old lady, then Blackwall and Bull. After that I choose between Mages or Templars, or figure out how to do _both_ , deal with the same Envy demon (like hell that thing scares me, my mind is a steel trap) or scary as fuck time magic where all of my inner circle are slowly dying…

Seal the breach, get Haven crushed-

We really need to talk about escape plans, even if it isn't that pilgrimage path we need to be more prepared. I still don't understand how _Leliana_ had never thought of it with all her scheming, paranoia, and sneaking about.

Huh. So that's what a Chantry looks like when people aren't trying to murder you.

It's obviously a place of worship, and the old time Catholic Church would no doubt appreciate the aesthetics and racism. Not sure how they’d feel about a female pope though- ( _not very happy at all._ )

“What is the Herald wearing..?” A sister whispers near me while I stand outside the Chantry, and I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.

Stepping forward I push open the doors and shut them behind me, eyeing the stone columns and pews at the sides of the large room. Sisters and a few Mothers whisper prayers in front of small shrines, probably for the dead, probably in hopes that the breach won’t start growing again. My footsteps are silent while I walk, following the sound of shouting and arguing to the war room. The words are too muffled for me to hear, so I just open the door.

“Ah, here she is. Guards chain her, I want her on the next wagon to Val Royeaux.” Rodrick states as soon as he sees me, and I’m ducking away from the armored men before they can try anything. I swear to Freckled Jesus if this world ruins my love for hugs and gives me touch aversion, _I’m going to stab someone._

Leliana looks almost amused by my ducking away, and Cassandra waves the men off.

“Disregard that, and leave us.” She says with only a small frown, watching the men salute and close the door behind them while Rodrick silently fumes.

I get it, this is all scary, but am I what you think of when a terrorist attack happens? Seriously?

“You still think I did it Chancellor, after I saved the world from being swallowed?” I grumble, grimacing and eyeing the old man with clear distrust. He wavers just a little before narrowing his eyes further, getting ready to respond with a biting remark. 

“That doesn’t matter. You are not a suspect any longer.” Leliana says, and the holy man’s face only gets redder. 

“What do you mean she is no longer a suspect?!”

I lean back against a small pillar, watching the adults finish their argument before Rodrick storms out in a flurry of robes and slams the door behind him. His steps pound outside the door even with it closed. The weird face he made when Cassandra did the book smacking was quite therapeutic, even if I feel bad. He’s just doing what he thinks is right, though it isn’t fun to know the governing body of a religion think I’m a Divine murderer.

Cassandra runs a tired hand down her face, then turns to face me. I try not to flinch away from her intense look, very much reminded by the face she made when we met with less murderous intent, but she notices my tensing anyways.

“I have not had the chance yet, with your recovering, but I am sorry for the way you were treated.” Cassandra says slowly, awkwardly. I feel awkward too, so I just shrug then run my fingers through my hair. “You thought I murdered your Divine.” I say simply, a small frown on my face.

“ _Your_ Divine?” Leliana asks with a cocked eyebrow, still leaning comfortably against the wall. She reminds me of a cat constantly waiting to pounce on you, really.

“I’m a dirty heretic.” I say in deadpan. “Not a follower of Andraste or the Maker, the Dalish gods, or anything else really.” I explain. Cassandra looks like she can’t compute someone being religionless, and Leliana seems to regard me with much more interest than before. Agnostic and Atheist really aren’t a thing here then, not all that surprising considering all the shit the Chantry pulls.

“They are calling a Herald of a faith you do not believe in then.” Leliana says and my frown only deepens.

“Indeed.”

“And you don't wish to protest it?” Leliana asks and I sigh.

“Of _course_ I do. I have no interest in being bowed to or treated like Andraste reborn or something, but me telling them to shove it won't do anything now will it?” I explain, fingers taking a run through my hair. “People believe what they _want_ to believe unless it's shoved in their face.” My psychology teacher made that much clear even if I _didn't_ have common sense.

Leliana stares for a few more long moments, than nods in satisfaction.

“If you’re both quite done, we need to discuss your part in the Inquisition.” Cassandra says. Her hand is laying on the old book while she looks at me and I dig my hands into my jacket to hug myself.

“Close rifts, close the breach, kill demons. With my hand this isn't a choice anyways, is it?” I ask, but it's generally clear I realize the situation. Leliana would probably just drug me and drag my ass back anyways, even if I had somewhere to go.

 _I have no one to go_ **_to_ ** _. Fuck, I want my Mom and Dad. I wanna watch and see if Lola’s chin scar ever fades and if Ava gets a tattoo-_

Not yet, stupid brain. Wait until you’re alone to start that shit.

“You do have a choice-” Cassandra attempts to protest, but I just shake my head at her with a wry smile.

 

“No, I don't.”


	2. That Poor Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tree is punched, Zoe decides she wants to cut her stupid hand off, Solas is a Fade nerd, and Varric is being a cool uncle. 
> 
> What could possibly go wrong??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoe is a little close to a panic attack at the beginning. If that's a trigger or something... here's your warning? 
> 
> Do people actually get affected by that stuff? I'm probably just weird. Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> (I honestly have no idea what I'm doing, as you can see from the time it took to write this. Please don't tear this to pieces in the comments lol)

' _Turn back now Seeker, this battle is for naught.’ Rodrick murmurs, looking at the warrior woman with sheer despair in the face of a problem like the breach. I don’t blame him, the damn thing is beautiful in its terror and spits out more and more demons by the minute._

_Cassandra looks to me questioningly, looking for input I didn't realize she'd want from me with all the circumstance._

_I blank for a moment, unsure of myself and what's better. These are real lives. Real lives that are apparently in my hands._

_Damn it._

_‘The mountain path, Seeker. If there's a chance at saving those scouts we have to try.’ I say solemnly. I'm emotionally drained from all of this... insanity. Insanity is a good description for all the hell that's going on around me._

_Cassandra’s face is blank enough to let me know she's not fully happy with the decision, but understands the logic. I can see small approving looks from Varric and Solas at the corners of my eyes when we set off, but it doesn't help the pit growing in my stomach._

* * *

 

My left hand is spasming when I wake up, the sheets around it looking suspiciously singed.

“Damn.” I hiss, taking the offending appendage into my other hand in an attempt to stop the twitches.

The occasional dull spike of pain comes from the mark while I sit, staring at the ceiling of my still unfamiliar cabin.

It's lonely. An ache in the heart, lonely.

I'm not used to being so far away from my sisters. Through every house switch from Mom to Dad they were always there with me. By my side as annoying as they could be, and now they're gone. A whole universe away with my parents, probably grieving and angry and looking for some kidnapper. I might have traumatized them, actually.

Numerous curses fly out of my mouth when my eyes start to leak dangerously. This sucks. This really, really fucking sucks and I'm probably never going home.

Tossing my blanket off of me and shoving my clothes on I sprint out of the suddenly suffocating cabin and into the small hours of the night. I'm out of the gates before the sentries can say anything, kicking dust all the way to the woods with gritted teeth.

I'm punching a tree before I can register it, fire roaring around my fingers and crisp splinters fly around when my fist connects.

I freeze, stumbling back from the dented, large pine.

“Holy shit.” I whisper, looking down at my now scraped knuckles with wide, teary eyes. The pain doesn't register much, but the burnt tree does. It's a good thing I realized I needed to get out before I killed someone, Jesus.

My hands are trembling while I take deep breaths, trying to calm down. I’m a walking bomb now, it seems, and that means emotional control. One of the things I’m terrible at, and don’t enjoy doing. My heart has always shone right on my sleeve for everyone to see, no shame in crying when I’m sad, cussing when I’m angry, laughing when I’m happy-

Man this is gonna be hard.

“Herald?”

My head snaps to the side, and I blink when I see a almost… concerned looking Solas.

I hope he didn’t follow me man, I don’t need Fen'harel getting really.. curious about me? Fuck if I know. It's gotta be at least three in the morning.

“Hey, Solas.” I mutter with a shaky voice, grimacing at how this probably looks. Unstable kid wielding his magic and bloodied knuckles. I was always better at calming other people down.

“You seem to be bleeding, Herald.” He continues in a conversational tone, but he's stiffer than usual, unnerved? Guilty? Fuck if I know. Again, ancient Elven god.

I hate that title, Herald. Like I'm some harbinger, like I'm more than just another person trying to figure my shit out.

“Please don't call me that.” I whisper with teary eyes. “Don't pretend I'm not a person like the rest of them do. Varric’s the only one who's called me by my name in a week. A week.”

My voice is shaky with new tears, and I reach up to furiously scrub at my eyes. Count until your calm again, ground yourself, you’re five steps from a panic attack. The air is cold, my hands ache, Solas is watching me like I’m a frightened animal, the stars are beautiful.

Exhale.

A warm hand slowly grabs my right, and I watch Solas look over it.

“You awakened your magic only recently.” Solas states.

“It showed when Seeker dragged me up the mountain.” I say back quietly, watching him still his movements for only a moment, then lightly drop my hand.

“You’re uncomfortable with her, not that I would fault you given the circumstance.” Solas observes quietly, then gestures to my scraped knuckles. “It will heal quickly so long as you bandage it. Come, my supplies are in my cabin.” He says with a small gesture to follow him.

So I do, snow crunching underfoot while we walk back to the gates of Haven. It's fucking stupid my first time seeing snow was here.

We pass the half awake sentries and head towards Solas’s Cabin, that is indeed right next to Adan’s hut like in the game, and go inside.

It's warm in the small, one room cabin. Faint embers flicker in his fireplace and papers are strewn about random places in some sort of organized chaos. It's familiar to the way my room at my Dad’s is, was, except I had drawings on the walls and in the most random of places. Not sure how I feel about having similar organizational tastes as Fen'harel.

“Take a seat on the bed, if you don't mind.” Solas says with a small smile, then goes over to his storage and rummages around. I do as he says, wishing more than anything to just sleep for a long while. His bed emanates warmth, probably runes, and he has a few soft furs for blankets.

I look back at Solas when he reappears in front of me with a roll of bandages, lightly taking my hand into his own so he can wrap it.

“Does the mark bother you?” He asks quietly, and I snort in a very unladylike manner.

“My hand spasms whenever I wake up, and the mark itself keeps sending pain up my forearm. Not surprised with how corrosive the damned thing is.” I hum just as quietly, and the words taste a little bitter on my tongue. It's a lot of this man’s fault that I have this mark on my hand, a lot of his fault that this world is pulling itself apart at its seams.

Not that I can voice that. A victim of elven justice I am not, thank you very much.

He frowns at that, lightly tying the end of the bandage as he does so. I wonder if he actually thought the pain would just stop after the breach was stilled, or if he just said that to make everyone more compliant? A honest question that I'll probably never get to ask.

“You can feel the magic’s nature? That’s surprising for such a new mage. Tell me, how is your experience in the Fade-?”

“I don't wanna talk about it.” I cut him off quickly, pulling my hands to fist my jacket out of habit.

His smile looks a touch more strained at that, and he stands from his crouched position.

I wince a little, feeling sort of bad for the quick cutoff. For all his mistakes he's a Fade nerd at his core, I suppose, but it's really none of his business and I don't give a shit this early in the morning.

“Thanks for patching me up, Solas. Sorry for… waking you? I dunno. Goodnight.” I say quickly. Standing up just as quick I head for his door. Oh Jesus he's better not assume this is because he's an elf, I might just punch another tree if that's the case. He's just the person to assume that first.

“Goodbye.”

Ugh. Leliana is going to corner me in the morning ain't she? Fuck it. I want sleep.

* * *

 

“Any reason for the bandages, Smalls?” Varric asks when I sit down next to him, yawning.

Ha, ya killin’ me smalls-

Shut the fudge up movie references, too early for this shit.

The tavern is filled with low, drowsy conversation and filled to the brim with hungry villagers, scouts, and soldiers alike. The sun is just coming up, but I guess there ain't no rest for the wicked after all.

Wait, does that saying count since this is a religious organization? ‘Ain’t no rest for the holy’ doesn't have the same ring to it-

Oh yeah, conversation.

“Punched a tree.” I say stiffy, giving a frazzled elven woman a smile when she sets down a bowl of soup and what smells like mead.

Varric, who’d been taking a drink of his own mug, chokes on it with a surprised snort. Coughing and pounding on his (hairy) chest he shoots me a incredulous look.

“Since when?”

I curl into myself, remembering the emotion fueled experience. “Last night.”

I look away from his face and take a tiny sip of the mead that's been placed in front of me. It's… fine I guess? Not all people play it up to be in Skyrim at least, the alcohol content probably isn't even that much and it’s kinda just disappointing. Like that one time I had non-alcoholic cider.

Bummer. Was hoping I'd get some sort of vice to make things interesting, guess I'll just have to do tattoos. Was planning on getting some anyways when I was older and now I can offend some old Chantry ladies doing it.

“Not many times am I surprised Smalls, this is one of the good times. Definitely going in the book once you give me the reason.” Varric says with a grin that's not all happy. Wonder if Hawke had some nightmare problems too since Varric looks so… knowing. Honestly wouldn't blame any Dragon Age companions or main characters for being fucked up, no way I'd be able to deal with any of the darkspawn shit from Origins.

Ugh, Broodmothers.

I take a nice bite of my soup.

“I woke up sad and angry, so I punched a tree instead of a person.” I mutter to him, eyeing all the people nearby who might hear if I say it any louder. “I burnt the fucking pine tree. Not even joking, this mage thing sucks a lot more than it's fun most of the time. All of the time so far besides the realization that I could shoot ice outa’ my hands.”

Varric nods patting my back gently.

“You'll mostly get a hang of the control once you use it more. Maybe using a staff with help?” He asks just as quietly, helpfully.

I make a face at the suggestion.

“If I don't need the staff to fight I don't see the point in lugging around a stick that lets everyone know I make things boom when pissed.” I state, taking another bite of my soup.

Varric laughs at this, and a couple heads turn in our direction and look at us with awe. Not everyday you see a ‘religious figure’ and a famous author I guess. The religious figure part makes me wanna puke honestly.

“Lookout, annoyed Seeker incoming.”

My eyes snap over towards the doors, watching nervously as Cassandra takes long strides towards us. She’s not happy looking either, though that might just be her morning face. I can understand the feeling.

“Morning. Sleep well, Seeker?” Varric asks when she gets to us while I attempt to shrink into myself, holding my bandaged hand on my lap and hoping she doesn't notice.

“It was fine, Varric.” She says back, pulling up a chair and sitting in it.

Oh boy. This isn't a interaction I want this early in the morning.

“Did you sleep well Herald?” Cassandra asks, turning to look at me with interest.

“Yeah.” I reply simply, happy that Varric doesn't make any move to rat me out. She'll hear about it from Cullen at the war meeting today anyways, and I'm not in the mood for a interrogation on what me and Solas were doing out in the middle of the night.

I focus on eating my food while Varric keeps Cassandra occupied with conversation. It has something to do with the state of the Hinterlands and the troops that were just sent over this morning, so I do listen in with one ear, but otherwise I try to be ignored. I still feel a little nauseous around Cassandra. As good a person as I know she is, that first interaction is going to stick for a while. A long while at this rate.

“I’m heading up to the War room.” I say quietly, taking another sip from my mug of mead and standing.

Cassandra is quick to stand too. “I'll come with you Herald.”

“I'll just stay back here and watch the recruits fumble around Smalls. I'll see you later, alright?” Varric says, giving me a smile. I smile back, pushing in my chair.

“Bye, Varric.” I state, before walking out of the small Tavern with Cassandra right behind me.

“You and the dwarf seem to be comfortable with each other already.” Cassandra says. I nod, fingering my jacket.

“He's comforting.” I say quietly, looking up at the sky. It's covered in blues and pinks and oranges from one side, and a huge green mirage on the other. It's almost surreal the way everything looks, the real people I'm speaking to, the actual Chantry we’re approaching. All the parallels to the Catholic Church are weird too, Lady Pope included.

Wonder if I could start having the Canticle of Sharton preached earlier this time around? I remember most of it from when I'd looked into it after my first play through. Sharton was a real badass.

Leliana isn't in her tent when we pass it, so I assume she's waiting inside the War room.

Cassandra opens the door for me and we step inside the warm building, greeted by low morning prayers said by a couple ex-Templars and Chantry Sisters.

My marked hand chooses now to spasm a little, and I use my other hand to grip it.

“Does it still bother you?” Cassandra asks while we walk, and this reminds me of the first walking into the Chantry scene before Mother Giselle. I can almost see the choices in front of me, but I go for honesty instead.

“I want to cut it off, which is a lot coming from a artist.” I say with a hollow looking grin. So fucking lucky I'm right handed. _So. Fucking. Lucky._

Ugh I'm depressing. Happy thoughts, dwelling only makes you sad.

Cassandra looks alarmed by this, but before she can comment we’re entering the war room, seeing a more tired looking Cullen, a cheerful Josephine, and a frowning Leliana as she looks over some of her papers. Probably reports from a way her eyes are narrowed.

“Morning.” I greet, and get a couple replies in response as me and Cassandra come up to stand by the table. There's a couple scattered papers, one of Leliana’s little figures on the Hinterlands, and a open Inquisition book Josephine seems to be looking through.

“What’s that on your hand, Herald?” Cassandra asks, now staring down at my hand with piercing eyes.

Oh boy oh boy, here it comes.

Leiana in three, two, one-

“It seems the Herald had a walk last night.”

Bingo.

“Yes, my men reported seeing you run out of the village and come back with Solas. Care to explain?” Cullen asks, in a probably unintentional condescending tone.

Nah bro, cutting that shit out at the start.

“I had a nightmare and needed some air, if a tree met a fiery demise it was it’s own fault, Commander. Please don't use that tone when you're talking to me, I'm at the big kids table too.” I reply. I'm frowning and leaning against the table, ignoring the way my left hand keeps freaking glowing. That shit is going to be annoying.

Cullen blushes, and Josephine quickly jumps in to save the situation before I get more passive aggressive.

“Apologies Herald, we were simply worried for you. I'm sure Commander Rutherford meant no harm.” She says with her best no harm smile.

I seem like a brat don't I?

I do. Time to salvage this.

“I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just-” I cut myself off with a sigh.

“It's fine. Let's just start the meeting and deal with the touchy feely stuff after.” I finish.

“As you all well know, my scouts and Cullen's soldiers have been sent to the Hinterlands. My scouts are scheduled to make it to the war zone in three days, Cullen’s men following two days later with two wagons of supplies. With what supplies and men we can give, we hope to somewhat stabilize the region and gain more support.” Leliana summarizes, and I'm happy she's so ready to get things started.

“How many hours are our people here working on average a week?” I ask, and Leliana blinks at the question.

“I… wouldn't know. Why do you ask?”

“We need to make sure they aren't being overworked, and that our Elven workers are being paid as much as the humans would for the hours they're doing. Excuse me if I'm wrong, but a startling majority tend to forget that their people both need leisure, and equal treatment.” I explain, running my fingers through my hair.

“If you don't mind, I'd like at least a list of how many people we have on payroll here in Haven and the hours and pay they get for them a week. I can write out the average from there by myself and see what we need to be doing from there.” I ask. Both Cullen and Cassandra both seem to be startled, and Josephine is looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re knowledgeable of arithmetic, Herald? I hadn't known you were of noble birth.” Josephine asks and I shake my head.

“I know a lot about math and science, but I'm not a noble. My mom was just a soap maker and my dad was a carpenter.” I say, and it's not all that far from the truth. My mom is actually a hairdresser and skincare specialist, but she makes soaps on the side. Dad… makes motorcycles and works at Mercedes. That doesn't really equate well to this word, so I'll just play on his good building and setting up skills.

“Then how, may I ask, did you learn such a thing? You seem to be well spoken as well.” Leliana pushes further, so I shrug.

“I like books, I like learning. If you can find the money it's easy to find a merchant who'll teach you what they know.”

None of that is a lie, if I'm implying that that's how I learned how to do math then that's just a slip of tongue.

So manipulative. I need to just not.

Leliana takes out a piece of paper and writes out a set of numbers, then slide it to me with a quill. “Find the average.”

I give her what I hope is a thoroughly unimpressed look, and take around five seconds to finish, circling my answer and sliding it back.

What a boring skill, math is. God must've thought it was funny to make someone who hates math be good at it.

Dick. One day I'll punch whoever’s the creator for that.

“Anyways, it makes no sense to make our people work themselves to the bone ourselves included.” I look over at Cullen when I say this, making him blush.

Yeah, looking at you Curly.

“You make a good point Herald. I'll see about getting that information to you by tomorrow’s meeting. Does anyone else have anything to include?” Josephine asks with a smile, and we all shake our heads.

“Well, to work.” Josephine says, and we all step away from our spots by the table, walking towards the door. 

Progress. That's all I can hope for.


	3. Pierced ears and a First Kill

My fingers tap quickly as I look over reports for people’s wages.

There's been a mostly consistent payment for everyone, on paper. However, Leliana did a little digging and found a couple people who'd been keeping parts of certain persons’ payments for themselves. Leliana made certain to post a notice on the Chantry doors that this wouldn't be flying, and the perpetrators had been shoved into menial tasks there's always need for. Cooking, outhouse digging, and other stuff no one really wants to deal with.

It makes me happy to know I've done something good on my own already, reassures me that I have some sort of control in my spiraling life, but-

With slightly shaky hands I gather the papers up in a neat pile and put them at the corner of my desk. With that handled I push myself out of my seat and grab what money I've been given in the past week.

( _Apparently this counts as a job, my walking about and talking to people. With a plus of suddenly taking over stuff about the welfare of our people.  
Waking up with the suspicious pouch of coins had been a surprise in the very least._ )

Taking a deep breath I head out the door and make a beeline for Seggrit’s stall, a half formed plan pounding behind my ears.

* * *

“You want me to what, Smalls?” Varric asks with lifted eyebrows from his seat in his corner of the tavern. When in doubt of his whereabouts, he's usually right there writing, telling stories, or drinking. Usually all three.

“I don't trust my hands to be steady enough, and you're the least likely of anyone I know to stop me,” I explain, ignoring a pang in my heart.

I do know people who wouldn't have stopped me, they're just gone.

Breathe. You need to breathe.

Varric chuckles lightly. “Between me, Seeker, and Chuckles that's probably true.”

“I'll do it, but not here. Can't exactly be caught in the act, can we?”

I wrinkle my nose at his wording. “This isn't that scandalous, Varric,” I try to say, but he only laughs in response. “Trust me kid, this is going to be hilarious.”

And with that the dwarf and I make our way out of the tavern and to my cabin with rings jingling in my pocket.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, it takes everyone but Leliana a couple minutes into the next War Meeting to realize what I did.

The results are, as Varric said they’d be, hilarious.

“Herald, what have you done to your ears,” Comes from Cassandra in one breath, staring at both the rings in my ears’ cartilage.

Piercings aren't really a thing for respectable folk in this world, unless your Rivani. Even then, you’re Rivani. With the parallels between the Chantry and Roman Catholic Church, a certain level of chastity is expected in society, and earrings ain't godly in many people’s books. Save little ones in your earlobe.

I've always wanted to get my cartilage pierced, and now that I've got a high chance of death, save divine intervention, I'd like to do some cool shit. I'm planning for tattoos at some point, but I'm gonna wait till we get the Chargers to see if Bull knows anybody with some skill in it.

If these people want me to be their Herald, they can see me as their Herald. I'm not going to lose myself for them though. This is who they’re getting, and if that makes them unhappy then they can suck it.

“I pierced my cartilage.” I say simply. Like the sky is blue and most grass is green, my cartilage got pierced.

It feels great too, to be in control. I can understand people with anorexia a little bit more than comfortable in the control aspect, that sucks, but at least I'm channeling this shit into something nondestructive.

God I've got more issues than someone my age should, then again, most of my generation jokes about killing themselves.

Grim, grim thoughts those are.

Leliana continues to look amused at her corner of the table, watching with a slight smile and crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

I guess I'm generally good entertainment?

“Are you sure that was a good idea, Lady Herald? This could affect your image negatively…” Josephine says calmly, all the while Cullen attempts to distance himself from the situation altogether, if his small, measured steps are to be taken into notice.

“I'm a fifteen year old commoner who fell out of the fade, is a mage, a heretic, and a declared false prophet. Really, the only place we can go at this point is up.” I hum with amusement, all the while holding up fingers at every fact. It's fun to honestly not care about certain people’s opinions. A feeling I don't usually get to have thanks to my hormonal worries about how people think about me.

Not that I don't totally care, it kind of hurts for people who've never met me to dislike me on principle, but details.

“But still, Herald. You cannot just… pierce yourself without warning.” Cassandra argues.

“I didn't pierce myself.” I say simply.

“Who- _The Dwarf_ -!”

“I believe we have other matters to attend to, such as details involving said denouncement.” Cullen interrupts quickly, though looking very unwilling to have Cassandra’s ire focused on him.

“A Mother in the Hinterlands has requested to see you, Herald, and decide whether she wishes to offer support towards our cause from the inside.” Cullen finishes, looking to Leliana, who's holding said letter in her hand.

“Mother Giselle and Divine Justinia used to correspond about her efforts at the Crossroads. We should in the very least listen to what she has to say. A voice in our favor against the tide of other voices who aren't could be beneficial.” Leliana explains, causing nods around the table.

“So I go see this Mother and see what she has to say, then probably attempt to stabilize some of the Hinterlands in the Inquisition’s name, right?” I ask, but I know it isn't really a question.

“Yes, however you won't be alone. Master Tethras, Solas, and Cassandra will no doubt be happy to accompany you right along with the new recruits and supplies being sent their the day after tomorrow.” Josephine is quick to reassure. Cassandra nods firmly when I look over at her.

She's stiff though, with a almost guilty look on her face. Does she still feel bad about the dungeon thing? Shit, that makes me feel bad.

_Clanking chains, panic, fear, pain spiking up my forearm like cracking whips-_

My hands clench behind my back, and I ignore any nausea in my stomach.

Is this PTSD? Please don't be PTSD.

Rubbing frost from my fingers I nod.

“By the way, I was talking to some of the refugees still here from the conclave. There's a lot of orphaned, especially mage or of mage parentage, orphaned. We need someplace warm and safe for them,” I say, un-clasping my hands and running my fingers through my hair. “Right now they’re just kind of wandering about underfoot.”

Josephine makes a noise, then angrily mutters about forgetting something.

“I greatly apologize, Herald. I had set out to handle that situation, but become occupied with my ambassador duties.” Josey says, then starts writing furiously.

I quickly lift my hands and shake my head. “No no, it's fine. As long as we handle it now it doesn't matter. I'm completely fine with offering my cabin for them, there's enough room.” I state, then turn to give Cullen a small frown. “I'd rather no former Templars be put around the cabin as well, Cu-mander. They seem to scare more kids than do them some good.”

I internally wince at the almost slip up, and at the expression Cullen is now wearing.

“Herald, they are young newly awakened mages. They are at risk of-”

“All mages are at risk of possession Cullen, as one of those newly awakened I can assure you that it's the fear the Chantry-” I cut myself off, puckering my lips before taking a deep, calming breath. My opinion of the Chantry and its fear tactics isn't important.

“You only recently gained your abilities, Herald?” Cassandra says with wide eyes, and suddenly I realize that I hadn't told that tidbit of information to the inner circle.

“Yes. I think the- my imprisonment, is what did it.” I say quieter, stiffer.

_Racing heart, fear and pain. She could kill me. She could kill me-_

“It doesn't matter. I have a handle on it, if my fighting up the mountain shows anything. The point is, I have a feeling that I can handle some kids, magic or not. I don't need any armored people to help.”

I don't know who I should be making eye contact with, just that I shouldn't look down at the floor. A stupid habit I had to break in favor of looking confident enough to fool people in high school. Make eye contact, or focus on a place close to their eyes. Like the bridge of their nose or an eyebrow.

My hands are shaking. Tremors are a good tell for panic attacks. _God_ I'm a mess.

“Done, Zoe. I suppose this meeting is adjourned then?” Leliana breaks through the cotton in my ears, pulling everyone’s attention to her.

Quiet agreements or grunts (Cullen) are made and we’re heading out of the room. I shove my hands in my pockets and make towards the door with a quick pace, taking deep, calming breaths. I feel like I'm drowning. I'll be fine though. I have to be.

The cold smacks me in the face and grounds me.

It's cold. The snow underfoot isn't as fresh as it was this morning, muddier and dirty. It still crunches with each step. A woman with long ears hurried past me, two scouts laugh quietly up against a cabin, and I'm going towards the gate.

God I want a hug. No one that'd hug me is left though, are they? Gone. My whole world is gone.

I'm hurrying down the path up the mountain, I note idly.

I want Cole, but Cole can't know me yet though. Not until I deal with the magic time bullshit and- and look at a world where I fail to save it.

I pause my steps abruptly.

“I can't keep doing this.” I whisper, pulling my shaky hands out of my pockets and trying to rub the tremble away.

Snow around me is melting away or turning to ice, much to my bemusement. _I have a handle on it._

I snort. I'm full of shit.

Tomorrow I've gotta leave early to start the mission-y aspects of the plot, recruit Mother Giselle and somehow fix the lives of the people who live in the Hinterlands. Then once I get back to home base, at some point, I go back out and find Blackwall.

Ugh.

Ugh.

No more panic attacks. Stop freaking out you crazy, I need to focus on saving the world.

* * *

 

I don't like fighting people, I don't like the crazed look in a majority of the Templars and Mages both or the thought of ending someone with a mind, heart, and soul. Fuck whatever Druid blood I have, I don't do killing people. I don't even like killing bugs.

I'm forcing stone around their ankles like shackles for capture from my place towards the back of our little fighting party, trying not to think that not all of them will be willing enough to be captured and then-

A sword aimed at Varric’s neck, raging eyes-

Sharp, pointed ice is coming out of the ground and into his eye before I can think. A whisper of power at my fingertips as my mana takes a quick dent at the action. The eyes are soft, and make a quick entrance for the brain behind them.

The Templar falls backward and lands in a metal heap on the ground.

Such a cliche, but I didn't think it was so easy.

If I'm crying when the skirmish is over, that's my business. Varric gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and keeps his hand there protectively when they start cleaning up bodies and interrogating those still living.

Mother Giselle is exactly how I expected her to look.

Dark skinned, wrinkled, and kindly looking. Her hat is just as ridiculous as I thought it'd be as well.

She, _of course_ , takes one look at me and tries to take a maternal role, but it feels more condescending.

“Herald. I had heard you were young, but I had not realized… Well, come.” The Mother says, walking off to the side, away from the patients under her care and my companions.

My shoulder is cold when Varric’s hand leaves it, lightly nudging me towards the holy woman.

I wonder what mom would say, seeing me talk to someone so high up the religious totem pole. Probably think I’ve gone crazy, since she, a southern baptist, was the one who told me I'm more pagan than anything else.

Wonder how people’d start reacting if I started reading cards for them. It'd be a pain to get a hold of tarot cards though, might even have to make my own.

“I'm sorry you’ve been thrusted in such a position child. Tell me, do you truly believe yourself to be a actor of Andraste’s will?” Mother Giselle asks me, and I lift a eyebrow at her despite not wanting to disrespect the lady.

“I'm not even Andrastian, Mother. I do have a magic glowing hand though, if that counts for anything.” I say, ignoring the way the mark flickers at the mention of it. _Half sentient stupid freaking-_

Giselle laughs lightly, pulling a little at the crows feet at the corners of her eyes.

She was probably drop dead gorgeous when she was younger. She's got the bone structure for it.

“The Inquisition just wants to help people and fix the hole in the sky, Mother Giselle. I’m sure you've seen what good our soldiers are doing.” I say. The woman looks me in the eye.

“I have seen that, but I admit I am still a bit unsure of what this Inquisition could mean for Thedas.” She turns around and starts walking back to her patients. “I will send a good word for the Inquisition, and go to Haven myself, child.”

I blink at her as she starts tending to men, conversation decidedly over.

“Guess we've got some Chantry support then.” I mumble, fingers going up to run through my hair. Not a surprise, but a different interaction then the game nonetheless.

I just killed somebody, maimed a few more, and I'm about to be in charge of fixing the Hinterlands.

Oh boy. _I'm thrilled._

 


	4. Pushing Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the hero just wants a break. 
> 
> Then again, it's been like that the entire time she's been in Thedas, so it might just be that.

We hunt rams while looking for the apostate stashes, my own quiet suggestion at multitasking logical enough not to be questioned. Cassandra stays close to my side, a hand always on her sword, her eyes always looking for danger.

We find it in bandits.

I take deep breaths don't focus on their eyes. Varric is sending arrows flying by a tree, while Cassandra gets in their faces. Solas is next to me, sending magic at the men as fluidly as breathing.

I try not to think of their families, who might mourn them, and freeze one right before Cassandra’s sword meets his head. He shatters and I'm already sending ice spikes and fire at the others.

My bones ache, even if I know physically I'm fine.

I'm not fine. That's okay, I shouldn't be.

That train of thought still isn't as helpful as I wish it were, so I focus on being thankful that I'm still alive. There's definitely something worth living for.

“How many people are we going to have to kill, just to fix this mess?” I ask the air quietly when we start moving again. It's still midday, but I just want to go to sleep. I'm fucking depressing.

_Yet alive. Woo._

Varric is the person who answers.

“I say we don't think about it until the time comes, Smalls.”

No real response to that, other than how. The number six chiming in my head, only two faces to pull up with it. Inaccurate ones I'm sure, but I don't want to see their faces. It may be selfish, but I don't want this to fuck me up more than it probably is.

I wonder what my parents would say.

An urge to defend myself crawls up my throat, and I'm speaking before I can stop it.

“I'm not always like this, y’know? Sorry to be a downer, sorry to drag you around and stuff.” I say, smiling, not looking at them but at the path in front of us. It's not the best smile, but whatever. I'm developing depression I do what I want.

“You do not have to say sorry, da’lath’in.”

_We understand._

Well, guess Solas likes me. That's probably a good thing.

We get all three of the caches and kill some ram. I pointedly don't pay attention to how efficient Varric skins and stores away the ram’s useful bits. A hunter I am not, not a very good soldier either if I'm honest. The meats are put in a large bag Solas but put a cooling rune on, and he carries it back.

I would insist on doing it, but I recognize I'm already slower than them. Adding more weight doesn't help make me any faster.

Stupid fatty legs and arms. You aren't very good for endurance. I love my body, but you suck.

The hunter has actual tears in his eyes when he sees the full bag of meat, and praises us with a grin on his face while I smile back. This one is real.

Vale is just as happy about the blankets, along with the scout who sent us off after them. There's at least ten, maybe fifteen of them, but apparently that's just enough to him.

* * *

 

I help out at making dinner at the Inquisition’s camp. Using herbs and plants I picked up while we were walking, thinking about Mom. Gardening was her thing, not mine, but I recognize the plants anyways. Pulled up from a field book I'd read once upon a time, and recognized from her own growing.

Basil, mint, spinach, even some katniss when we passed a brook. Mildly familiar in the last case. Katniss does like a colder climate than Florida, but it was in my head regardless.

They add some more substance than just salt and meat stew. It helps me feel more useful.

“Where did you learn to recognize these plants, Herald?” Cassandra asks over her own bowl, and the others around the fire are curious. Scouts and the other members of the inner circle.

“My mom liked gardening, plants in general really. Cooking too. Wasn't ever my thing, but it's useful.” I realize that's the most that I've said about my family to these people. I'm not usually like this. Why can't I just be back to cracking dumb jokes and acting like a damn thirty year old? Why do I have to hurt and whine and-

_Don't._

“I must ask, where are you from? You do not have a Ferelden accent, or a Orlesion one for that matter.” Solas asks, and I pull up my pre-planned answer.

“A little town by the sea in the Free Marches. It's... not there anymore.” I say. Nonspecific, but no so much that it’s suspicious. I hope. My tone channels my unending grief as well, _so that’s a plus._

“I apologize. I did not mean to open a healing wound.” Solas says. I just shake my head.

“You’re curious. I would be too. Before you ask, I came to the Conclave to see how to become a chantry sister. Didn't have jack shit going for me otherwise and thought I might as well.”

Cassandra looks appalled.

“You do not _believe_ in Andraste.”

“They'd give me food, money, and a place to sleep. No one wants to take on a orphan from the marches as a apprentice, Seeker. All I'd have to do is suppress my values.” I hum mock cheerfully, taking a overly enthusiastic bite of my stew. “Could've been a prostitute I guess, maybe a pickpocket. Both of those aren't appealing.”

_Play the character Zoe. Lies work best when you believe them._

Cassandra makes a face like she's in great pain or constipated.  
“That sucks, kid.” Varric says, and there are a few noises of agreement.

One scout butts in though.

“How can you not believe in Andraste’s light?” The woman asks from her seat on a log, and I shrug.

“Do you want the honest answer, or the nice one?” I ask. I respect people who have faith, and it’s definitely not my business as long as it isn’t maiming or killing anyone.

"Honest," She says, and I only frown at little at it  

“Andraste was a woman. A powerful, commendable one certainly, but just a woman. The maker people say is ignoring his creations? That just sounds like an excuse for the lack of any divine or godly action to me. You all probably have differing opinions, and _that’s fine_. I envy how other people can have faith in something they don't see, but I don't have that.” I take a bite out of my soup. “People call me Herald of Andraste. Whether I believe it or not doesn't matter. What you people believe does.”

I have too much logical reasoning and a much too cynical way of thinking to believe humans have the ability to just _know_ how the world works. It took a many of years to just get proper sanitation in our tiny minds as a majority, let alone realize we aren’t the center of the universe and evolution is a thing.

I wish I could believe someone's out there looking out for me, and other than getting doubles whenever I pray to Zeus out loud as a joke, the only stuff I’m willing enough to believe in is Tarot cards, and that’s because they’ve always worked for me.

“How do you fight then? If not for Andraste, than what?” One man asks suddenly, and a few glares get pointed at him. A ex Templar from the heavier armor he has on.

 _Not for me._  The immediate answer smacks me in the face, pulls me into bad thoughts late at night involving daggers and quick ends.

_They wouldn't want that. **They would never want that.**_

“For the people who need me to. For the people who can't fight or won't. I don't need a god to tell me I'm doing what’s right.” I murmur, clenching my spoon a little tighter and staring at my stew, putting another spoonful in my mouth as Varric quickly changes the subject to some fight he remembers from Kirkwall and a Templar without pants.

You need to live to fix this. You need to live for your family. _Your girlfriend._

All I think about for the rest of the evening is beautiful freckles, brown eyes, and smiles.

* * *

 

It takes me all of a minute to realize I'm in the fade, in a field of grass with a sole tree providing shade that I sit under.

It's cloudy and sunny. Peaceful.

I close my eyes and enjoy it, listening to the trees rustle and quiet chirping of birds. It's better than the past few nights, reliving times on that mountain or watching a faceless woman stand imposingly over me.

_I know who she's meant to be. I'm not an idiot._

I let out a tiny sigh, stretching my arms above my head and opening one eye.

Spirits peak at me through the trees looking like nymphs as they stare. I tilt my head at them, and them at me.

I wave them over with a lazy hand, yawning contently as I scoot up, both eyes open while I watch their approach. Some wispy in vaguely humanoid shapes, others looking like actual nymphs, probably like the form. With a little concentration, a stream runs through the meadow, and I smile at old imaginings of nymphs playing in the water.

For now, it just adds to the ambiance, a calming sound of water.

One of the spirits starts playing with my hair in the form of a red-headed, freckled nymph, and I lean into the comforting touch.

“You pull us here. The calm is appreciated, dear.” One hums I front of me with a more masculine voice, and wispy features, he sits down while others wander the clearing.

The company is appreciated.

I wake up warm and much less worried than I had been the night before.

* * *

 

I get through as much as I can quickly, accepting requests from as many people as possible and handling the quests with just a map and force of will.

I can only handle the closer stuff for now, and Dennet, bless his sarcastic heart.

I feel better with good nights of sleep every night. Compassion, Youth, Curiosity, they all enjoy the small haven in the fade I've made, safe from tears in the Veil and safe from demons who would see them harmed.

I haven't had to see one in my dreams yet, only hear of them from Mr. Compassion’s calm murmurings as Miss. Compassion braids my hair or hugs me comfortingly. Youth is happy to run about in the clean and cool stream ( _that’s become a creak_ ) I've made, splashing whoever’s closest and taking on the form of a nine-year-old boy. The Curiosities ( _a wonderful band name_ ) usually play along with him or ask for stories from me. All three of them have stuck to androgynous nymphs so far.

They’re good. They make me feel safe. I'm content with that.

I _don't_ feel so good when Solas asks me about it. In front of a Seeker.

I'd like to say he was doing it on purpose, but he's a fade nerd. A fade nerd who forgets his audience when he’s curious.

“It's amazing how easily you control your pocket of the fade, da’len. I'm unsure of how you can attract so many kindred spirits.” Solas says, using his staff like a walking stick as we head back to Haven. I flinch from where I sit on a wagon holding supplies next to Varric. Our legs are too short to walk most of the way and not be slower, though I'd bet Varric could do it if he tried. He looks up from what he’s writing, and looks at me, then Solas.

“Demons?” Cassandra asks, looking behind her and hitting me with a very disapproving stare. “Are you trying to be possessed, Herald?” Is what comes out next, and I shrink into myself a little, a finger going up to mess with the ring in my cartilage.

“Spirits aren't malicious like demons, Seeker. I don't think they have it in them to body-snatch me.” I say back, quieter than usual.

“It is true, Seeker. If she were in danger than I would step in.” Solas says, and I try not to frown at that. That's _my_ space, I highly doubt a demon could waltz in and try to take me. I'd be sure to offer it tea first though. Missy has been asking for some tea stuff on hand, _for some reason_. I think she used to work with food, with how much she tries to feed me. It doesn't do much in the fade, but it’s nice.

“If I ever have a problem, I'll tell you, Seeker.” I say, trying not to single her out and start an argument. I don't want to _villainize_ her, I know her like a friend. I wouldn't be able to- to hate her like that. To be cruel. No matter how much-

How much I still want to run when she glares, at me or anyone else. It isn't her fault, she lost people. I know exactly how it feels to lose important people.

She makes a face like she wants to say more, but doesn't. She turns around again with tense shoulders.

I'm bad at handling people unhappy with me. I'm wonderful at helping others at their relationships, and I've got enough emotional intelligence to understand things much quicker and easier than others.

That being said, you can know someone is unhappy, and know why, and still be at a loss of what to do. I hide from my problems, I tuck into a corner and wait them out. Years in unstable a household when you have a introverted personality makes your rely on those kinds of instincts I guess, but it doesn't mean it's right.

Hell, I don't know how I'm functioning right now. The last time I lost someone important to me I stopped going to school for a week and tried to become one with my bed, _fuck_ education when you just want to cry, or sleep.

I don't think my unstable home life helped.

Regardless, people problems make me anxious. I worry and worry until I get so in my head that things get worse. I don't want that.

This isn't a quick fix though. She's dealing with a hailstorm in her head right now, and I'm descending into whatever the hell my brain is doing right now.

My fingers come up and take a quick run through my hair. It's oily and I can't wait to be at Haven’s hot springs again. A cold river just doesn't do it for me.

My fingers are itching for paper and pencil to sketch something. It's been a while since I had time to, so I pull at my bag and take out my journal and a tin of charcoal. Messy, but I could care less right now.

Opening the book I flip a few pages of people and characters, my heart clenching at the familiar face of my favorite character to draw, but I stop at an empty page.

I should probably draw my family, before-

My hand trembles a little, but I start anyways, my hand stilling and easing into the smooth strokes on the paper. It's rougher than modern stuff, but that's better for the charcoal anyways.

My mouth is in a thin line as I work through the picture, legs crossed and my lap used for a table. I pray that I will be able to find a way to make erasers soon as I work, worrying that I'll mess up and have to start over.

I don't have to.

An hour or so later it's done.

My youngest sister stares up at me with a smile, and the ache in my chest soothes, only a little.

Coping. This kind of coping is good.

“So, who's that?” Varric asks next to me, eyes on the paper. The thin scar on her chin, the little wrinkle at the edge of her eyes, a big smile, and cheeks filled with baby fat, hiding what _will_ be more prominent cheekbones than my own.

She was a little shit sometimes.

_I love her._

“Lola. Figured I should draw her before I forget.”

A hand goes to my shoulder and squeezes it comfortingly. He doesn't ask anymore questions, but his hand doesn't move even when he starts writing again. I wonder if this’ll go in the book.

* * *

 

I'm about ready to pass out by the time we’re at haven, and after turning in a list of our exploits and our map with all the significant stuff we found marked in my hurried hand, I stumble into my cabin and somehow don't realize there's children inside until I've dropped my travel pack.

There's at least ten of them, mostly humans, three elves, and a qunari kid who's assessing me.

Oh yeah. I brought in some mage kids, didn't I?

_No shit, Zoe._

Blinking, I estimate none of them are older than twelve, and one looks like she's at least four.

Welcome to motherhood?

“Good afternoon munchkins. Would anyone like to go get some food?” I hum. Rolling with the punches I see.

One of the human kids, a little boy with black hair and dark eyes says yes with a grin. The others ease into it as soon as the qunari kid gives a small nod.

Biggest means leader than. Someone must of had to keep em safe.

“Follow me ducklings. Flissa is sure to be thrilled at the service.” I say, scooping my money pouch out of my pack and waving for them to follow me. “‘Name’s Zoe, before you bother with that Herald nonsense.”

Food. Food is the way to make kids like you.

_Zeus, buddy, I might need a better blessing than doubles at monopoly._


	5. Solas is concerned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years! Sorry for not updating since last year, (haha im hilarious), but this chapter took me a little while to get out. Hopefully the next update will come quicker.
> 
> Also, y'all better stop with them kudos. This fic doesn't deserve a hundred lmao. Seriously though, thanks for the support, I hope you all continue to enjoy this!

I realize when one of the elven kids sneeze and electricity crackles at her fingers, I'm going to need help.

They’d ate plenty when we got to the tavern and I happily paid for it. They’re kids, kids who were left alone and they _deserve_ to not want for what they need. Kids are important.

It's lucky she sneezed when we were back in the cabin that's now lined with a couple cots and a bed shoved in the corner, _very_ lucky no one but me and the others saw her.

I take a deep, calming breath, wishing for sleep yet knowing this is more important.

“I'm going to go get someone for you guys to meet, alright? He knows more about this mage thing than I do, enough to get some demon repelling runes up in the cabin or something,” I tell the kids, but keep eye contact with Birsa. She's the qunari, her head comes up to my shoulders, and she's only two years younger than me.

She was probably the kid of a qunari merc that got sent to the Conclave, but I haven't asked yet. Not with my internal panicking.

I get a few nods, and then I'm stumbling through the snow toward Solas’s cabin, trying to pull my fluffy jacket closer while I shiver at the cold.

I knock on his door only once before he's opened it, looking down at me curiously.

I feel bad, I shouldn't bother him, but this isn't _about_ me. It's about the ten kids in my cabin who can _shit fire._

“So, you know how I’ve shared my cabin with some mage kids?” I ask in a nervous tone, and he nods.

“I was wondering if you knew any runes or something that would keep them safe from demons? I know how _I_ keep them away, but I'm not sure it works for everyone like that,” I ask, moving from one foot to another while I look into Solas’s eyes.

They look like crystals, a cold blue color that looks grey in the right light.

Why is he so _tall?!_

He nods leaning lightly on his doorway.

“I can. Though I wonder why you’ve come to me, instead of a more… _qualified_ mage.”

_A circle mage._

It makes my stomach churn just thinking about what the Chantry did, making people see themselves as monsters.

“I'd rather have someone who isn't so biased against the fade do it. They should still be able to see spirits, but someone else might think them one in the same,” I explain. It's not that I think circle mages are less intelligent, or less skilled than mages who learn outside, but a fear of yourself won't help you improve and grow. I can _feel_ other people with magic, I can freeze ice inside of a living thing, I can do _more_ than what the Chantry said mages could do.

There's a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips at the end of my sentence, and he does his weird nod that looks more like at bow at me.

“I'd be happy to provide my assistance, da’lath’in,” Solas says. “How… are you faring though? You look like you’re falling asleep where you stand,”

I take a nervous scrub through my hair with my fingers, and chuckle.

“I wanna die, but I'm fine. Best get on with this, right?” I hum, and the dark humor feels much more natural than a lot of other things I've been doing lately. Solas looks momentarily stalled by my statement for a moment before gesturing for me to lead on, of which I do so gladly.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Pardon me, but that is a… concerning sentence,” Solas says quietly by my side.

“I want to fall asleep and never wake up,” I mumble simply, face pulling a grimace. “I can't though, not with this thing on my hand. Now everyone is counting on a grieving fifteen year old to fix the world, poor dudes.”

I don't look to see his expression.

“Sorry does not off solace. All I can do is say I understand,” Solas replies in the same quiet tone, and I can feel mirth smoothing out my pained expression. He understands more and less than he could ever know.

I know my head isn't healthy right now. You shouldn't be able to say that you want to die so _easily_ and mean it. I would tell an adult if I had any I trusted left, as it is these people would just start treating me with gloves and _still_ make me go out and kill people.

I feel sick.

“If I’m being honest, I wish a sorry could fix this, but thank you.”

I open the door to a group of children milling about, and notice the way most of them tense when they hear the door open.

_Poor babes._

“I’m back, and I’ve brought a helpful fellow mage!” I say with a small grin, gesturing dramatically to Solas, and thankfully getting a few giggles and smiles.

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance. I am Solas.”

So old. Then again, I call people dear one and have _scolded_ my friends for running around the pool.

A couple ‘Hi’s are called out by the munchkins. Birsa seems to deem him worthy after a considering glance too, before going back to braiding the smallest girl’s hair with gentle and practiced fingers.

“Solas is gonna put a few wards and the like up to keep y’all from getting nabbed by some unsavory folks in the fade. Don’t mind him walking about.” I say before giving Solas a small smile, gesturing for him to do what he’s gotta do. I didn’t really think this through in the moment did I? This is why INFPs shouldn’t be left to make split second decisions damnit.

Labeling does not excuse your dumbness _. Focus._

Solas nods to me and walks towards the beds. He starts tracing patterns on the wood that leave faintly glowing marks, all the while he chants something in elven under his breath.

I’ll start my corruption of the youth by giving hugs, I guess. Not many can resist them! Except for my sister, but she only likes hugs from my mom anyways.

Crouching down in front of the two Elf kids, I open my palm. Small, pretty snowflakes start floating above it, and I grin at their awed faces.

“How do you do that?” One asks quietly, carefully taking my hand and rotating it so she can see all of the fancy magic.

I take her palm and open it, then the boy’s.

“I think about how the snow falls in the morning. Just channel your mana to your hand first…”

* * *

 

_Splitting pain trails down my forearm._

_I fall to my knees, forcing my crying eyes shut as I_ **_force_ ** _the breach to seal. My mouth is clamped shut in an unconscious attempt to keep any sound from coming out even while I'm shaking with strain and sobs._

_I can't hear anything but blood pounding my ears and my own breathing, but I can feel two warm, calloused hands holding me up._

_My blurry eyes open to a wide expanse of greens and blues and floating debris._

_The most terrifying things can be beautiful, I suppose._

_I pull harder, an unseen force keeping my left fingers from shutting._ _I need to do this. They’re counting on_ me.

_I hear a huge boom through it all when my fingers finally close and my wrist snaps to the side quickly. There's shouting and I'm being carried. It's blurry, but before my eyes shut, I get one last glimpse at the now just sealed breach. Subdued. For now._

_“I've got you Zoe, okay? I'm right here. You did it. Shit, Chuckles she’s fading-!”_

 

* * *

 

_-Gentle fingers braid my hair with practiced ease. Suppose Dad would be after a big sister and three daughters. Ava and Lola are already asleep in their room while we hang out in the living room-_

 

* * *

 

_In and out of consciousness. Pale slender hands checking my temperature and there's murmuring in a lyrical language under someone’s breath._

 

* * *

I wake up with a kid curled up in my side, with my own arms around her.

Gently, I lift an arm up and rub my tired eyes, tight from old tears. My muscles ache faintly from all the exercise I've been doing lately, and it takes a lot in me not to groan at the feeling.

The ceiling stares down at me and I stare at it. Wooden with a few straws of hay poking out from in between the boards. For insulation maybe? Wonder how often it has to be changed.

I look down at the sheets and am relieved to see I haven't left any frost or burns on them this time. That fade sequence was kinda shitty.

The barest hints of sunlight make their way through the covered windows and I slowly get up and out of the bed.

I feel like shit.

I throw on my padded, warm clothes and a jacket and head out the door.

Oranges and pinks and reds streak against the sky from the east, coloring the clouds and bathing what’s below in the same light. It's weird how much more you can appreciate certain things after near-death experiences.

_Checklist for the day-_

_Visit my inner circle and check on them._

_Spend time with the servants and talk about their needs._

_Take care of the kids I’ve suddenly taken under my wing, like an idiot._

_Visit the healing tents and continue to keep people from having blood drained via leeches._

Okay. That’s only four things! Give or take a few stuff, but I can do this. I can _do this!_

Smiling to myself I walk down and out the gates towards Cullen’s tent. He’s probably already awake by now and I need to look into the size of our forces anyways. _That_ and their training. I’m not a military strategist, but it’s probably in our best interests that we look into gorilla warfare. Coryphy-shit probably won’t be playing fair anyways.

My smile stays on as I crunch through the new snow and nod to any I pass on my way. Today is going to be great. I’m not going to depress myself and I’m going to get things done!

I gently pull Cullen’s tent’s flap to the side and am greeted to a tired looking commander peering down at reports on his desk.

I frown and look over his appearance. Haggard, messy clothes, and bags under his eyes. He really shouldn’t have gone cold turkey on the lyrium.

“Commander?” I say quietly, mindful of a chance he has a headache.

The blonde man shoots up from his seat in surprise, fingers immediately going to the hilt of his sword before he recognizes me. He quickly drops his arm from it, but I saw all the same.

“Herald- I apologize for not seeing you before. Is there something you needed of me?” Cullen asks.

“Not very much. Did you sleep last night, Commander?” I ask in the same quiet tone. The same tone I usually use with hurt people and animals, one that I hope is soothing. He straightens and tenses a little, hesitant.

“No. I’ve just been caught up in my reports, I apologize for concerning you,” Cullen says. He’s always saying sorry. I wish I could be annoyed about it, but I do the same thing.

“It’s perfectly fine, Commander. I’m just worried for your health,” I say. There’s a itch in my fingers to comfort him somehow, but I know some people don’t like surprise physical comfort. “I just wanted to talk about a few things. I don’t presume to be an expert on military, but I got a few ideas on how we may improve our forces.”

Cullen nods, studying me for a few moments, and his gaze is critical.

“Alright. Have a seat, Lady Herald.”

He gestures to a chair pulled up right in front of his desk, and I sit down.

“Just call me Zoe. I’m far from highborn and I’m very iffy on the whole religious leader thing,” I tell him with a smile as he sits down himself.

“Apologies, La- Zoe. I insist that you call me Cullen then. What is it that you’re suggesting?” He asks, folding his hands on top of his desk and looking intently on me.

“One, teaching coordination between our battle mages and our normal recruits, preferably without Templars there to… guard them,” I start, and when he quickly opens his mouth I cut him off. “Please hear me out! I think creating friendship among _all_ of our recruits would benefit our teamwork, and creating formations and teams of magic and no magic wielders could improve battle performance.”

“I’m not saying we exclude the ex-Templars, I’m just saying that we should let them both ease into each other's presences to avoid infighting. The Templars will probably have prejudices that will further bias the mages intended teammates, making things harder starting off.”

I’d thought about this towards the end out our trip in the hinterlands, watching me and my party slowly get better and better at interpreting each other's movements. It makes a well rounded fighting group if you have a mage in it, so it also makes a good way to start fixing mage prejudices! A good solution for a problem that could bite us in the ass.

Cullen nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he stops focusing on me, but the back wall. Thinking. Which is good, because I have few ideas on how to actually implement this crap.

“This idea leads into my second one. I’m unsure of how familiar you are with it, but have you heard of gorilla warfare? Deadly surprise attacks?” I ask.

“Yes… that seems more like something Leliana’s men would be suited for, though,” Cullen says, looking in my eyes again. “It does! But imagine how quickly we could take out enemies if we had teams coming from a army’s rear rather than having our men face them straight on? It’s a good skill to have, even if it isn’t used often.”

“I see. You bring up good points, Zoe, I’ll think on your suggestions. I may be slightly… biased on your first suggestion, but I can say it is a very good idea. I’ll tell you if I decide to implement it,” Cullen says, giving me a small smile. I smile back easily. “Was there anything else?”

“Just a request for some statistics. I have what I would like listed here, so if you could at least count and let me do the percentages? I would really appreciate it.” I ask him, smile turning into a small grin as I pull out a piece of parchment with a small list of what I would like counted. Amount of soldiers we have total, amount of mages, the races, amount of males and females, stuff like that.

Cullen eyes the paper with visible pain.

“Of course. Do you truly enjoy doing these counts so much, H-Zoe?”

I nod quickly. “It’s important data! We can see how much we’ve grown in a few months, and I can check more wage differences.”

He _almost_ sighs. “Of course. I will get my runners on it as soon as I can. I’ll see you at today’s war meeting, Zoe.”

I stand up from my seat and push the chair back in place. “Can’t wait. Please sleep more, Cullen. Eat something too, you’re pale.”

With that, I’m out in the cold again, smiling kindly at the soldier standing guard at the door and heading towards the blacksmith’s to check on Harritt. I grabbed a frack ton of metals for him, I really hope they aren’t bad quality.


	6. Magic is Volatile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe is attempting to teach kids, clerics are annoying her, Varric is average height.
> 
> Oh dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gASP, is this a update? So soon after the last one? Blasphemy. 
> 
> I finished it faster than I though I would, and decided my poor, neglected readers needed a couple more thousand words. Do enjoy lol
> 
> ALSO, So I looked it up- VARRIC IS 5’4 or 1.65 meters if you’re not American. HE’S HALF AN INCH TALLER THAN ME. Fracking people in Dragonage are stupid tall and I’m jealous. The world is cruel.

“Magic isn’t linear. It works by its own rules, on emotion and intent. You could be trying to make fire but make ice instead, because it feels more natural. You could make a barrier, but be so aggressive the whole thing explodes,” I explain quietly, legs crossed and in front of the kids. 

The area around us is cold, but there’s no snow or dew on the ground thanks to my melting it all when we got here. It’s a small spot by the lake, a  _ private _ spot by the lake just far enough from Haven to avoid making anyone nervous. 

Birsa’s hand shoots up from the middle of the group, frowning in thought. 

“Yes, Birsa?”

“So we need to get a hold on our emotions before we can do shit with our magic,” Her young voice states, and I sigh. 

“Yeah, and watch the language kiddo. I’m not saying you block out your feelings- that usually only leads to setting things on fire or explosions. I’m saying that you understand your feelings well enough to channel them positively. Magic isn’t nice when you can’t control it, that’s part of why people are so negative about it.” 

A boy calls out this time. 

“Is this gonna keep us from getting posa-possessed?” He fumbles a little. He’s got green eyes and red hair some folks would kill for. 

“It’ll help. You also bring me to our main topic for today, possession and avoiding it,” I explain, before lightly laying a hand on the ground and slowly managing to get a flower to grow. 

How in the _flip_ is this so easy? Am I just a weirdo or would it be this easy for everyone if they’d seen so many examples of magic in books and TV?

“Mana, what powers magic, is without feeling. For you to use magic you’ve got to tap into your emotional connection to the fade- or at least that’s how I’ve figured it. When you go to sleep you attract things in the fade with your emotions, be them negative or positive. Get it?” 

Nods are all that greet me.

I focus in on my grief for just a moment and the flower at my fingertips withers away- eliciting the gasps I expected from a few of the kids. 

“That is what happens when you’re using magic and focus on something not so nice feeling. Demons in the fade are attracted to those feelings. Pain, sadness, shame, cruelty, fear, and any weakness they can smell. They come to you wanted to tempt you into letting them in- and some people can’t handle keeping them away.”

My hand goes to my lap again, and I make eye contact with all of them, breathing in the cold morning air. 

“That is how someone becomes an abomination. They let in something that wants to use them, and they are consumed by it. If you want to avoid that, I suggest on dealing with your feelings in a healthy way.”

“You’re kids, and that’s going to be really hard for the first while, but folks like us have gotta take care of ourselves to stay safe,” I explain to them, slowly and kindly. I don’t want them to get too scared, being scared of yourself would probably just make it easier to get taken by bad shit in the fade. 

“How d’ we do that though?” A elven boy in the front asks me, sitting real close to a smaller elven girl. He’s got dark eyes, and he’s certainly not old enough to have any Vallaslin. The girl is ashy blonde like me, with silver eyes. 

I lean back a little humming to myself. 

“There’s a lot of ways. Breathing exercises can help when you’re mad, crying when you’re sad and talking to someone about what’s bothering you. Hugs definitely help, most any physical contact usually helps when someone’s unhappy,” I list off. My hand takes a quick run through my hair when I’m finished, and I watch the kids digest this information. 

“There will always be danger when you can shoot fire at will, kids. Despite what the chantry says though, being possessed is only a problem if you let it be one. Almost every night I hang around my own pocket in the fade with spirits who could care less about sharing a body with me. Not that I suggest you make some spirit friends without supervision-! That’s a little much for you guys at your age.”

“Anyways, I think now I’ll teach you some of those breathing exercises-“

“Herald!” Someone calls from the direction of the village, and my head snaps in that direction quickly, immediately spotting a scout jogging over to us. 

“What’s it, soldier?” I call back as he gets closer, slowly standing up and stretching. 

“The Nightingale called an early war meeting. I apologize for interrupting you, m’lady.” He says when he stops in front of me, awkwardly looking from me to the still sitting kids on the ground next to us. 

“No problem at all. Please don’t call me a lady though, I’m just as lowborn as everyone else here.” I tell him politely with a smile, slightly looking up at him. 

The hell do people eat around here that makes them so fracking tall? I’m the same freaking height as Varric surrounded by people who are six foot or taller. Maybe it’s the fade doing weird shit and only the dwarves are normal. 

The scout nods again, just as awkwardly, and starts hurrying back towards the town.

I turn and focus back on some suddenly more tense kids. 

“I suppose not. I’ll be sure to continue this as soon as I can kiddos, alright? Come on. Let’s get back.” I tell them, gesturing with one hand for them to get up and start walking. 

There’s some unhappy grumbling but they get up anyways, and I stay at the rear while they chatter.   

I wonder what Leliana needs to tell us all so quickly? Blackwall sightings maybe, or some news about talks with the chantry? 

A small hand grabs mine and I look to my right, seeing one of the younger kids looking back up at me. Her hair is as dark as Cassandra’s, but her eyes are lighter. More of a milk chocolate brown? 

Over analyzing is dumb. Stop that. 

“Hello darling. Did you like my rambling earlier?” I ask her, gently holding her hand back. 

She nods, hair bouncing with her. 

“I’m happy you did. If I ever use any words you don’t understand, interrupt me. I don’t mind much.” I say as we pass the military encampment, noting the way my kids start to close ranks with the littlest of them towards center. 

I just as gently before let go of her hand and nudge her towards the other kids. 

“I’ll see y’all later today, okay? If you get hungry just tell Flissa to put it in my tab.” I tell them all, waiting for some nods and statements of confirmation before starting up towards the Chantry, wary of the icy steps and subtly evaporating it as I walk. 

Am I abusing my newfound scientific law breaker?

Yes. Yes I am. 

Smiling at anyone who makes eye contact with me, I head inside of the holy building, only pausing when I see Mother Giselle beckoning me towards her. 

I force myself not to slump, and walk up to the Mother with the same small smile.

“Good morning, Mother.” I say, and she seems to look over my appearance and expression in a moment.

“Good Morning to you, Herald. I only wanted to check on you. In the flurry of you getting here yesterday I had no chance to speak with you.” Giselle tells me with her hands clasped in front of her.

She’s kind, and she’s really not a bad person. I just don’t like the way she makes me feel. Like I should just listen to her on principle. It’s not her fault, I’m probably just an ass.

“I’m dealing. Have you settled in alright? It’s cold, but it’s all we’ve got right now.” I flip the question in a obvious manner. She chooses not to ask about it further. I don’t want to talk about this with her, and I’m sure she gets that. 

“I am quite settled, despite the cold. I must say though, my allergies have not agreed well with the different location.” The mother says, and I respond without thinking. “Local honey helps, a small spoon of apple cider vinegar too, if you can stomach it alone.” 

Shit. Why haven’t my allergies been freaking out? They mess up when I go to Alabama, let alone a different  _ world.  _

_Fuck it_ , it’s probably magic bullshit. I don’t care. 

“Oh! Thank you. I’m unsure if anyone raises bees in this climate, but I’m sure I can find some apple cider vinegar. I won’t keep you any longer, Herald.”

And with that, she leaves abruptly. Again?

Maybe that’s just how she ends conversations. 

Shaking my head, I hurry over to the War room’s door and open it, stepping inside the warm, parchment smelling room. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. I was out by the lake and got stopped by Mother Giselle.” I say, noting Leliana’s lax position leaning over the map, Cullen’s drowsy eyes, and Josephine’s pause at writing next to a continuously tense Cassandra. 

“No harm done, Lady Avery. I only just came in myself.” Josephine tells me with a kind smile. 

Goodness gosh she’s beautiful. Everyone in this fracking room is. 

Well, except for me, but I’m okay enough when I actually wear a dress. And go outside. 

“Yes. Now we can see why Leliana has chosen to call our meeting so early.” Cassandra says, looking over at the red head. 

Leliana straightens up from her place. 

“I’ve received a raven this morning that I believe you will all be happy to hear of. The clerics in Val Royeaux have agreed to speak with us, so long as Zoe is there.” Leliana says, clasping her hands behind her back. 

“That is wonderful!” Josephine says. 

“Indeed. They’ve asked to meet in a week or two’s time, if you leave tomorrow we will be able to get there before the time limit.” Leliana says, focusing on on me. 

Tomorrow? Ugh. I just got back from a long ass trip. 

Leliana seems to see the disappointment on my face and is quick to apologize in her own way. 

“I realize that you do not wish to leave so soon after just getting back, but I assure you that you will be allowed to stay in Val Royeaux long enough to recuperate before being sent back here.” Leliana says, and I nod. 

Does this mean I need to practice my meager French? I’m going to accidentally offend someone before we leave there, I’m positive of that much. 

“I will alert Dennett that we’ll be needing horses ready, and the quartermaster for supplies. Herald, do you mind telling Solas and Varric of our next journey?” Cassandra says, pulling my focus to her. 

“Sure, Seeker.” 

“Now, since we’re already here, I have news on a certain marquee’s response…”

* * *

 

I find Varric at his home table by the fire, in the Tavern. 

“Hey there, Smalls! Come on, sit down and order something.” He calls to me, and I feel a grin pulling at my mouth at the sight of him. I take a seat next to him, peering over at the letter he’s writing with no shame. 

“Huh. That’s a lot of money the Carta owes you.” I hum, and he only laughs.

“Nosey, aren’t you? Yeah, I’m just trying to pull some favors right now for Nightingale. Inquisition needs more supplies and the Carta always delivers.” Varric says. 

“Anyways, Seeker wanted me to tell you we’re moving out tomorrow to Val Royeaux. The clerics finally decided to see us.” I tell him and Varric grimaces. 

“Already? Smalls you were dead on your feet yesterday, I dunno if that such a good idea.” He says. I can only shrug back. “The clerics want us to see them in at most two weeks. If we don’t leave quickly there’s a chance of being late.”

“Shit. Well, I guess I’d better hurry up on these replies. Go to bed early tonight, kid, and tell Solas he owes me six silvers.” Varric says, reaching over and ruffling my hair. 

The hell did they bet about?

“Yeah okay. Same goes to you, Varric.” I reply, before getting up and hurrying out the door, towards Solas’s abode. 

Eyeing the closed door, I knock for the second time in two days, and for the second time in two days he’s answering the door almost immediately.

“Good morning, Zoe.” He says in his almost always serene voice. 

“Good morning, Solas. Cassandra wanted me to tell you we’re heading out for Val Royeaux tomorrow.” I tell him, and he lifts an eyebrow.

“Oh? Is that wise, considering we’ve just gotten back yesterday?” Solas replies, and I can tell from the tone he means the same thing Varric said. ‘You were lookin’ pretty rough buddy, you sure that’s a good idea?’ is the gist.

I agree with the gist, but assholish clerics don’t care about my personal needs. 

“The clerics put a time limit on us, and it wouldn’t look good for us to be late.” Is all I shoot back, but the look on my face probably describes my feelings well enough. The apostate hums to himself, before tilting his head ever so slightly at me. 

“Well, that is unfortunate. Was there anything else?”

Oh. Right. 

“Varric says you owe him six silvers?? Should I be worried about my dear companions betting with each other?” I ask, both mildly concerned and amused. 

His expression only turns utterly serene, but that twinkle in his eye says differently. 

“Of course not. Any sort of bets made are purely in good nature. Tell  _ Master Tethras _ that he should wait patiently before speaking so soon.” 

What the-

You know what? Ima just let the famous dwarven author and the ancient elven god do their thing. As long as they don’t get maimed it ain’t my concern. 

“...Kay then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Solas.” 

“Goodbye, Zoe.”

Odd people. I’m surrounded by odd, odd tall people.    
  



	7. The Chant(ry) and Clerics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sucker punching fun, and emotional breakdowns await Zoe. Because fuck you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, this one is a heavy one at the beginning, and it’s chalk full of character bonding and progression towards the end. 
> 
> Trigger warning,  
> PTSD flashback and mentions of active combat.  
> (I spoke to two different people with the disorder to make sure I wasn’t insensitive about it, so just being clear about that so no one yells at me in the comments lol)
> 
> aLSO WE’RE ALMOST TO 150 KUDOS. HELL YEAH BROS.

The We stop by some chantry before we make it to Val Royeaux, something about a agent of Leliana’s handing over some reports since we’re passing through anyways, nothing too bad. 

“- _should see fire and go towards Light._  
_The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,_  
_And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker_ _  
_ _Shall be her beacon and her shield-_ “ sounds from somewhere inside and suddenly, I can smell the burning dead in Haven. I can see grief stricken faces and I- 

Some small part of my mind thinks, ‘ _You’re not there anymore. It’s just the Chant for the departed. It’s probably a trigger._ ’ As if that knowledge could stop my hands from shaking and my stumbling steps.  

 _I’m fucked up. I’m so fucked up._ I can smell the ozone from lightning magic, smell decay and death and the nausea inducing smell of that _gook_ demons leave behind mixing with the blood-

_I’m there. The breach is right there and a scout just died feet away from me. Cassandra is shouting in fury behind me and I send a ice spike through a demon’s head even if I’m shaking._

_What if I mess up? What if I die and these people are left with the breach? What if one of the inner circle dies? My fault. It’d be_ my _fault._

Somewhere someone is holding me. How am I getting held? People are dying and fighting and oh god stupid _lightning troll-_

“Zoe, I’m right here. Calm down, breathe, I’ve got you. _I’ve got you._ ” Someone- _Varric_ says lowly and soothingly. Warm arms wrapped around me, someone’s crying? Am I crying? He’s warm like dad. I want my dad.

I can still smell it. I smell it like I’m still there, but I’m not. _I’m not._

Catalog.

Warm arms, Varric’s comforting voice, the floor feels hard- _wooden_ , and my tears are soaking Varric’s shirt.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Out slowly.

I want my Mama and Dad. I want them to hold me and tell me I’m safe.

That isn’t happening though. Varric is good enough.

Slowly I calm down, and we just sit for a moment.

“I’m fucked up. I’m fucked up for life.” I whisper shakily into Varric’s chest, holding him as close as possible. “Why’d it have to be the _chant._ ”

I’ll never escape _stupid_ songs with religious connotation. I’ll just have to suck this up as much as possible for the rest of my life. Heck. Frick. _Mother flipping pears._

“You’re not the only one who’s fucked up, Smalls. This- this shit isn’t your fault.” Varric tells me, rubbing my back. It isn’t. I sure as hell didn’t have a choice going up that mountain, that was made for me. Not that I would’ve done otherwise anyways. What’s one kid’s life in the grand scheme of everything? Very little. _Less_ than little.

I just want to be okay.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with me. I’m sure you’d rather do something else than comfort some kid.” I tell him, despite not wanting to throw my stupid worry of being a bother out. Stupid. This is all utterly stupid.

“Don’t be _sorry_. Who the hell else was going to? Chuckles has a stick up his ass and Seeker looked like she wanted to flee.” Varric says patting my hair. I pull my face away from his chest and note the awkward position we’re sitting in on the floor. 

“I’m sorry. This stuff isn’t for kids, Smalls. You shouldn’t be dealing with this- this nugshit.” He says, lifting a arm and rubbing a hand down his face. Varric looks tired and older. Wearier. At least I wasn’t wrong in thinking these people deal with their _adventuring_ too.

“I’d hope trampling through the wilds and killing people isn’t a kid thing.” I grumble, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. It’s easier to smell the battle though, almost see dead that I made with my eyes closed. They open again to see a concerned looking Varric.

We’re in a small room, one of the cottages that grouped around the Chantry. All hardwood and faintly Smokey smelling.

The door opens before one of us can breach the silence. Solas steps inside like nothing’s wrong, such a calm face and bearing that lets me know he’s on edge. I wonder if I just shut down, or if my magic started flaring? Hopefully the first. The latter would be bad news bears.

“Da’lath’in.” He says, carefully shutting the door and taking in the situation.

“Ha’hren.” I reply, bringing a hand up to rub my eyes.

A momentary pause, and when I look at him again there’s a small question in his face, but he continues anyways.

“Cassandra has spoken to Leliana’s contact, and we’re ready to leave once our supplies are restocked.”

‘Are you okay to leave?’

My eyes shut and I take another deep breath, ignoring ghosts of blood I can smell with it.

“Okay. Thanks, Solas.” I say, leaning closer into Varric’s chest.

“ _Tuelanen ama na_ , Da’lath’in.” Solas says, and all that’s left is a dwarf and a human and quiet silence.

* * *

 

It’s raining in my small grove in the fade, enough so that I have to picture a small cottage and porch for us to sit on, out of the downpour. I suppose I could stop it, but I miss just watching the rain from my porch with a sketchbook in hand.

Solas has to walk through it to the porch, and the disgruntled look on his face brings a smile to my own. The spirits of curiosity all look up from where they’re attempting to braid flower crowns, and Youth tilts his head at the bald elf from his seat on my lap.

“Hey, Solas.” I greet, watching him wring out his shirt with a suddenly much more amused smirk.

“Hello, Da’len. Did you have to make the rain soak through my clothing?” Solas asks with a slightly amused tilt in his own voice, and I cheekily shrug.

“So. How do you like my grove? It’s usually less… wet.”

Red headed curiosity makes a sound of triumph, picking up the flower crown they’d been making and plopping it on the brown haired one’s head. Blonde peers at it from his(?) own seat, looking from it to his own scattered group of flowers.

Solas smiles serenely.

“It is peaceful. I have never met a dreamer so young so quickly master manipulating the fade.” He says, settling in a chair next to my own. I shrug at him, looking down at youth’s head and run my fingers through the curls.

“The fade likes to be something different, and I ask nicely.” I tell him, looking up and at the rainy clearing in front of me. “I think most could do it if they just understood it’s all at their fingertips. Birsa’s been visiting sometimes since we left Haven.”

I see Solas nod at the corner of my eye.

“It is simple when put that way. Most mages, however, are less… understanding of the fade’s nature. In my own time exploring it I still doubt I fully understand it.”

A bright smile pulls at my lips.

Fade nerd. 

Youth taps my thigh a few times, pointing at the rain with the other.

“Ima play now.” Is what he says, and I remove an arm from around him, letting him slide off my lap and watching him speed walk down off the porch and into the rain with a happy laugh _._ Red hurries up from their seat to join him, gladly enjoying his babblings on a game he wants to play. 

“So. You know Elvhen?” Solas asks, and I look over into his eyes.

“A little. I had a few friends who spoke some, and a picked up what I could from there, _Ha’hren._ ” I tell him. Not lies, not when I did know a few people online who did know some.  

“Really? You truly are a peculiarity in your race, Da’lath’in.”

I cringe.

There’s the racism. Not malicious racism, just… racism.

“I find that it doesn’t matter what race you are in the subject of ignorance.” I say in a matter of fact manner, running my hand through my hair. “To ignore a entire culture’s rich history is a waste. So much is already forgotten thanks to the fall of Arlathan anyways, and the systematic oppression of the elves only made that worse.”

There’s a pause.

Would a peasant from the Free Marches be knowledgeable enough to say that?

...probably not. 

Fuck it, there’s holes in my story already. Leliana’s just too nice to poke at them yet.

Solas hums.

“Your words are true. Apologies, I have just gained a wariness to humans from experience.” He says, doing that head bow thing. I quickly wave him off.

“No, your point is valid to think humans as a majority are prejudiced to other races. I just think you should open your mind more to the possibility that not every human is like that.” 

Carefully not hostile. My inquisitor never had the chance to kindly steer Solas out of his elven glory mindset, to give my own honest opinion on the past and where it should stay. He’s my friend, and I don’t want to hurt him and smack his ideals.

It’s all in the tone of voice, calmly nonchalant. A small smile and relaxed posture.

Not that I’m not relaxed, but it all adds up to a nice picture.

“A very open minded way of thinking, though I should expect it from the young woman who ensured equal payment in the Inquisition.” Solas says with a smile, and my cheeks heat up.

“It wasn’t anything that shouldn’t have been done.” I say, slouching into myself a little and watching Brown hair attempt to help Blonde make a flower crown. It isn’t going well from the looks of all the broken stems.

“To you, It was. To others, it wasn’t even a thought in their minds.” He says, still looking at me.

That’s the problem though, isn’t it?

I can barely comprehend why someone would do cruel and unfair acts, unless from a dire life situation standpoint. I feel and I feel and for some reason any pain someone else is experiencing I have to take on myself, like a idiot.

Stupid strong sense of justice and mortality, you’re the reason I’m in this mess.

“True. I can hope that someone else would’ve done the same though.” I say, looking back at the old elf.

“Hope, but I would not have bet on it.”

The conversation lulls, and until morning we watch the rain fall.

Blondie never really gets the hang of flower crowns, try as he does.

* * *

 

Val Royeaux drips in wealth and prestige, and from it’s very gates we can all see the masked rich meandering like they’re one step down from the Maker and Andraste herself. 

I watch them silently as my companions talk and plan and plot. The grace disguising other flaws, the masks ruining their facial expression game, treating every conversation like it could ruin someone’s family business in a few words.

Self importance. Greed. Easy jealousy.

Not that they don’t all have good qualities, but it’s all so far down I can only see blurred pictures of their real personalities.

We walk into the plaza, and towards the platform the Clerics stand on.

“Good people of Val Royaeux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart- silenced by treachery.” A mother says from the top of the platform, and we walk towards the front of the crowd.

Here is comes.

“You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more.” She says, looking straight at me.

Well, ow. That actually hurts some. Do I honestly look like a terrorist?

“Behold. The so called Herald of Andraste claiming to rise from where our beloved fell.”

Claiming my _fucking_ ass. This woman wouldn’t be talking so much shit if she- she _saw_ what that mountain was like.

In.

Out.

It’s midday. Cassandra looks pissed. Varric is putting this in the book. Solas is leaning _too_ serenely on his staff, looking up at the Mother.

“We say this is a false prophet, perhaps even a puppet. The maker would not send a _child_ in our time of need.” The mother finishes, and I suppose this is the part where I say something.

“Mother, I’m not the person you should be asking about what the maker would and wouldn’t do.” I say as soothingly as possible, clasping my hands behind my back. “We came to talk to you, you _requested_ we speak to you. I don’t know how this helps the immediate problem of sealing the breach.”

The mother only shakes her head at me, disbelieving.

“So you do not even believe in your own organization’s lies? An example of the obvious mistruths the Inquisition seeks to spread. We asked for you to come here and explain yourselves, and you offer only weak responses. Regardless, it is already too late.” The mother says, before pointing to a large group of Templars coming towards the platform.

I watch them carefully, loosening my stance and watching the Mother step back and make room for them, looking at the distance between me and her.

“The Templars have returned to the chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition’, and the people will be safe once more!”

I watch the captain gesture to one of them, and I’m sprinting up onto the stage in a second, pushing the mother away and-

_Fuck!_

Ugh. That was my cheekbone. Agh, that shit is going to _swell_ like a bitch.

I quickly turn to the shocked looking mother.

“Are you alright? Did I push you too hard?” I ask, completely ignoring the shocked looking Templar who punched me and a utterly unhappy three adults I rope along.

“Why would you-?”

“ _What is the meaning of this, Lord Seeker?_ ” Cassandra seethes, and oh my god I can feel the pain on my entire left cheek. Not good. Ice and a healing spell later. Ugh I’m tearing up.

“Her claim to authority is an insult, much like the girl’s who got in the way.” The stupid Envy demon says coldly, turning and starting off the platform. 

“You will no longer address me.”

“Lord Seeker!”

The Envy demon says some more trash talking, but I’m more focused on rubbing any tears in my eyes away. Fuuuuck that really smarts.

“Mother, are you sure you’re okay? Men shouldn’t try and put their hands on old ladies.” I say angrily, suddenly focusing all of my annoyance towards said old lady on the prick of a demon who almost got the poor woman a cracked cheekbone and maybe concussion. I’m made out of harder stuff, thanks to magic and crap, but she might’ve been really hurt if hit in the temple.

“I- I am fine, child. Why would you do such a thing?” The Orlesian woman asks, distaste and concern warring on her features from her stiff posture to her twitching hands.

“What, because you voiced your opinion I should have let you get hurt? That’s stupid.” I say, shaking my head.

Cassandra makes her disgusted noise™, and I turn to see her watching the envy demon walk away. She turns on her heel and up onto the ramp, looking down at my face and eyeing the damage.

“Damned- that is **_not_ ** how a Seeker should act, Herald.” She hisses, visibly pissed at my self sacrificing getting me punched pretty hard on the face. I don’t know how I didn’t rag doll like the Mother did in the game, holy crapping Christ on a bike- ugh.

“Will you please consider an alliance now, Mother? The Templars are clearly being dickish right now, and we can always use more assistance.” I ask looking over at the Mother and Sisters standing to the side while Cassandra waves Solas over.

The clerics all look disgruntled at this.

“We will think on it, child. Do not assume one act can change the Chantry’s position on heretics.” The Mother says, but I recognize that some people will take this and see us better for it. Always good to get good publicity.

“Very clear, Mother.” I reply, before Solas gently takes my chin and hovers his hand above my already swelling cheek. 

“Foolishness and selflessness are often in the same actions, Da’lath’in.” He hums quietly.

“Completely true, Ha’hren.” I say back just as quietly, trying not to crack a grin and hurt more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuelanen ama na || Creators protect you || Used with: anyone, formal or informal  
> (Taken directly from ‘Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language’ by FenxShiral.)


	8. Meeting and Speaking

Two steps away from the platform, an arrow misses my right foot by an inch. _An inch._

 _‘I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took an arrow to the knee._ ’

Yikes. I’d rather not.

“Andraste’s tits- is that a note, Smalls?” Varric swears, putting a hand on his heart as Cassandra just almost draws her sword, still on edge. I pull the arrow up and gently take the note off of it, wary of tears.

Oh. Well, at least someone has worse handwriting than me.

Not to self, never mention that thought to Sera. Ever

_‘People think you’re special, and you helped that granny. I want to help. I can bring everyone._

_There’s a baddie in Val Royaeux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, ‘round the cafe, and maybe you’ll meet him first. Bring swords._

_Friends of the Red Jenny’_

I grin, and say it aloud. Cassandra groans, Varric snorts, and Solas looks positively intrigued.

While we’re off on our scavenger hunt we’re stopped by Vic’s messenger too, and I get to read that aloud to everyone too. The party thing is in a week or so, and once we’ve grabbed all of the stuff that noble hid places we find out we have to meet him tonight.

So another week in Orlais until we can start heading home.

Ugh™.

* * *

 

I hate shopping. Idle wandering around with no clear goal for no reason other than browsing?

No. No thank you.

Varric, however, has other ideas. He happily drags me along, and by proxy Cass and Solas. Val Royeaux is far larger than the game liked to imply and I get to enjoy walking through its indoor _and_ outdoor markets.

Perfumes and colognes fill the air for most of it, mixing with savory and sweet smelling foods on display. A few people speak French or Spanish loudly, but a strong majority are speaking trade speak, aka English. I stand close to Varric as he struts like he owns the place, peering over wares and stopping every once and a while to get a closer look.

“Varric, these talismans do diddly squat.” I hum next to him, fingering a utterly normal necklace with elven engraved on it.

“Indeed. They all say halla in them.” Solas says calmly, eyeing one in his hand carefully with the barest of a uplift on his lips.

One day, I’ll be as subtle as Solas. Eleven out of ten role model- then again he’s a lying ancient elven god…

 _Nine_ out of ten.

“I don’t see why we must dally about like this. Surely there are other more _productive_ things we could be doing.” Cassandra cuts in before Varric can do anything but grin at Solas’s comment.

“Half agreed.” I say. I do need some better art supplies and some books, but browsing is satan. Stupid weird people in my life who enjoy it. These talisman aren’t even well carved!

Another note, I need to see if there are Tarot cards anywhere around here. Or get better supplies to make some myself and hope they work properly. They work best when you get them as a gift, but I don’t exactly have that option at the moment. _Or ever at this point_.

Depressing of me, moving on.

“Come on, you two! Shopping is fun, I get to find goodies.” Varric says with a grin, gesturing to a pretty looking halla statue.

Spending money makes me anxious. It probably always will, what with my not so stable upbringing, but it’s probably part of why I have such a distaste for shopping. I don’t _like_ buying things for myself, and I don’t like other people spending money on me.

I frown, and we continue onward. I wanna play the freakin squeeze game.

Gently taking Solas’s hand into my own, the unfortunate victim since he’s walking next to me, and squeeze his hand twice.

He looks down and blinks at me questioningly. He’s confused by affection? Weird. Very weird. I must remedy this.

I squeeze his hand again, and he squeezes back, making me grin.

It’s not really a game, as anyone could tell from seeing it, but it’s familiar. Back in freshman year a best friend got into a car crash and couldn’t talk for a month and a half. It was… scary. So I’d take her hand in mine and we’d squeeze back and forth. Reassurance. She hasn’t been in good shape, and if one of her Intestinal injuries got missed-

Squeeze game. Right.

I squeeze back.

* * *

 

Ice freezes most of the soldiers near me in place, and at the corner of my eye I can see Sera hopping and flitting at the sides of the action. She’s fast and deadly accurate.

I shove away a man who gets too close to me and _don’t_ wince when a crossbow bolt makes its way in his eye.

 _People are dying and you’re too much of a coward to do shit about it_.

Thanks brain. Thank you so much. A fucking pleasure.

Cassandra bashes a man’s face with her shield and Solas sets a barrier just in time to protect Varric from a stray sword swipe. I kick a lightly armored man away and a arrow finds its way through his throat.

I’m going to have nightmares. God _fucking_ bless.

They all fall in the end, most knocked out, others dead.

Sera jogs up with a grin on her face like the cat who’s just got the canary.

“Nobles, always trying for more than they can get. Name’s Sera. You’re the one with the glowy hand-” she pauses for a moment, looking me over with a tilt of her head.

“Shorter than I thought, _younger_. Whatever. ‘Sides, you’re tall where it counts.”

Penis joke. Don’t laugh at unintentional penis joke _degenerate_ -

I keep it down, but grin back at her anyways. Now I’m thinking about _Naruto fanfiction of all things._

“Suppose so. So you’re with the Jennys?” I ask, and she nods.

“Yeah. Like I said, I can bring in help from all over places, bring in calls for it. You’ve seen me in action too, so that’s a plus.” Sera says to me. I nod.

“Very helpful for the screening process at least. I know a little about the Jens, so I’m all for you joining up.” I say, and she visibly brightens.

“Oh? Heard a little about you bein’ little person, but I hadn’t believed it. Little people don’t just _get_ power like that so easily, y’know? See it now though, no puff or elegance.” Sera says quickly and focus entirely on her words, noticing though the way Cassandra shifts a little at her words. Probably sort of catching what the elf means, though for people with no experience with the elf they’re doing pretty well.

I shrug. “Wasn’t really nothing, the breach was…”

 _Ozone_.

“Not good.”

Sera nods along, but I know her and know she doesn’t get it yet. She will, and I hope it doesn’t shake her too bad.

“Anyways, suppose I’ll meet you at Haven then, right? I’ve got things to handle before I go.” Sera says quickly, straightening and hurrying off without a goodbye. I blink at the quick departure.

Yeah, she’s a little off her wagon, but that’s alright. Everyone in the inner circle is.

“Well, she was a character for sure.” Varric says to himself, and I snort. Cassandra makes her Disgusted Noise™ all the while Solas smiles, and we leave the small courtyard, leaving a forgotten bag of breeches.

* * *

 

I sit cross legged out on my room’s balcony, sketching out the pretty buildings in front of my quietly. Some sort of stringed instrument plays in the distance, probably at a restaurant or tavern this late, and I let the strokes of my hand fill my head. Keep out stupid thoughts.

I don’t want to see the fade tonight, I know exactly how fun it will be if a do.

Someone walks up behind me, and I tense.

“Ah, Herald, I did not realize you were out here…” Cassandra says awkwardly, and my grip on my pencil tightens a little. A lot.

It isn’t her fault. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She wouldn’t hurt you. It’s just Cass, romance loving and maybe Varric loving Cass.

I force my breathing to stay relaxed, ignoring the anxiety churning in my gut.

“It’s fine, Seeker.” I say quietly, forcing my pencil to start moving again and ignoring the little tremble in my hands. I’m terrible, I’m making her feel like shit right now. Stop being a brat Zoe.

The air is tense, and Cassandra takes in a breath to say something, stops, and sighs to herself.

“I… am not very good with emotions.” She murmurs and moves to the ground next to me, enough distance to not encroach.

Look at how she’s trying, don’t be a _dick._

This thought process is faintly reminiscent of how people rationalize staying with abusive people, and that annoys me. Logically it _is_ her fault for bullying a child when she is an adult. It’s her fault for not keeping a handle on her emotions and ultimately _her_ fault that I’m acting like this. **_Not. Mine._ **

That, however, doesn’t change the rolling guilt and genuine _fear_ in me.

“I hurt you that day, when you woke. It was _dishonorable_ of me to act in that manner towards you.” She says just as quietly, and I glance over at the utterly tense woman sitting on the ground next to a fifteen-year-old girl.

“It’s fine-“ I try to say, quieter.

“ **_No._ ** _It was_ not _fine._ ” She hisses, fingers clenching into tight fists. “I acted like a overgrown bully unbefitting of my position as a hand to the divine. You are a child and I could not see past my own grief to comfort you, scared of **_me_ **.”

She curls into herself a little, frowning severely with her eyes shut tight.

“I deeply apologize for my actions against you. As a Seeker, a hand, and as one who is meant to protect you.” Cassandra says, finally facing me.

I hold back tears. Why am I crying stupid hormones- _stupid natural reactions._

“Thank you.” I say. Slowly I reach over and gently to her own hand into mine, shoving my nerves down and sniffling like an idiot.

“You were hurting, and you let out that hurt in a bad way. You are at fault, but-“ I swallow, “ I understand. I understand and I forgive. I won’t forget it for a long time, but I can forgive you.” I tell her, lightly rubbing my thumb against the back of her hand comfortingly. Love often, forgive moreso, but _never_ forget. Forgetting gets your feelings broken.

She looks almost shocked. She nods though, a sharp one that speaks of duty.

“I am unworthy.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Your actions were unworthy of you, but you’re making an effort to fix them. _That_ is worthy of you. Don’t worry on how worthy you think you are to me.” I tell her with a frown, moving my other hand to take her hand as well, sketchbook laying forgotten on my lap.

She frowns back, but it’s not a _unhappy_ one. More of acknowledgement than than anything.

This is a step in healing. Don’t be a wuss Zoe.  

“Want a hug?”

She flinches at it in shock. The hell is up with these people and physical affection? Bullshit. I will slowly and softly worm my way into the easy comfort zone.

“If you wish it.” She says slowly, and I nod, pushing down my cocktail of feeling and gently hugging her.

Cassandra’s warm. This is nice.

She slowly relaxes, taking a deep breath and hugging before just as gently hugging me back.

This doesn’t just fix my anxieties and fears. That isn’t how the brain deals with trauma. But this? This helps, even if only a little. She’s hurting, I’m hurting, and sometimes you just have to…

Breathe. Take a deep breath to fill up your chest, hold it, and release. Stewing in all of your bad feelings will only make you miserable, and that isn’t how I want to live.

The next morning is much less awkward than it’d been before between me and Cass. Solas and Varric notice, of course, but besides curious glances they don’t say anything about it.

I’m more worried about the obvious exhaustion in my eyes and looking through books on Orlesian noble customs and family trees in an effort to not embarrass myself during Viv’s dumb party that she’d probably only set up because I was in town.

The interbreeding is gross, it’s all borderline _bad_ incest, of which I usually don’t judge unless it makes baby Joffrey’s a’la Game of Thrones style, but there’s no way the lack of variety in the gene pool is helping _any_ of these people. So I have to keep track of enough names to not sound like an idiot, but I can barely remember names after _speaking to the person for months_ , so it’s slow going.

Someone pushes me some toast and tea, of which I aggressively eat, not looking up from the De Ghislain family tree, Viv’s hubby’s family or whatever. They have connections with the royals for fucks sake, they’re rich as _hell_ , and probably have branches in every other major family in Orlais.

Headache. I’m getting a headache. At least I know who to call ‘Madame’ and ‘Your Grace’. Should I go in a dress? The inquisitor just waltzed right in in the game, but Inquisitors always give little craps about that stuff anyways. I could play on how young I am, maybe a flowy dress? Sundress type flowy dress? Flower crown??

I don’t know. I’ll mail Josephine today, she’ll get back to me by tomorrow if it kills the crow that has to carry it, bless her.

“Doing alright there, Smalls?” Varric asks beside me, and I look up from where I was staring blankly at the page. Varric looks both amused and slightly worried.

“Uh, yeah? Maybe? Just trying to think on how _not_ to utterly destroy my reputation with the stupid nobles.” I say, leaning over and letting my pounding head rest on his shoulder, eyes shutting. It’d be easier to establish myself as a ignorant hieratic, but it benefits me more to seem like a young, _endearing_ , peasant who so happens to be at the head of a powerful organization.

Underestimation is the worst mistake you can make. _Always_ expect more than what it seems from an opponent.

I sound like an old politician. Ew.

“That is a lot of thinking over breakfast.” Solas says, and I don’t have to open my eyes to realize he’s making that dumb face of his. The one with the fake innocence. I peak an eye at him.

Yeah. That one. Stupid high cheekbones, I’d smooch him if he weren’t so darned old.

“We owe those vultures nothing from us. I say we go as we are and be done with it. They will judge us nonetheless.” Cassandra says from where she’s eating an omelet in full armor.

I try not to snort. I do. My head pounds harder in retaliation.

“You underestimate the power of an impression, Seeker.” Solas says simply, and Cass huffs at him.

My eye shuts again.

“Their impression of me will affect how they treat my authority and the validity of the Inquisition. As I am, I’m not very intimidating. If we play on that, then we can use whatever charms I have to make them like us. If they like us, then we gain support.” I explain slowly, leaning into Varric more when he wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“Already thinking with the game in mind, Da’lath’in?” Solas asks, and I hum.

“Playing the game is what they want, so they’ll get it. I was gifted with the ‘ _great’_ ability of understanding people and how they work. If I use that to manipulate these dumb dumbs and they fall for it? Their fault. I don’t feel bad.” I explain.

I really don’t feel bad about playing these people. The nobles of France had a history of oppression, and I can see it here too. They’re a century or less to getting a revolution anyways, suckers.

( _Not actually, I don’t really wish for people to get their heads cut off via fast moving, sharp metal._ )

“Very conniving of you, Smalls.” Varric says sarcastically, ruffling my hair. I open my eyes just to make a clear show of rolling them at him. He snorts.

An eleven lady comes in holding a tray with more tea on it and I give her a big grin despite my stupid head.

“Thank you very much, ma’am.” I say when she sets it down, watching her eyes widen with shock at the acknowledgment. Her face is gaunter than it should be, wrists small, and there’s a trace of red in her pale blonde hair.

Early malnutrition, _continued_ bad diet.

Something in me hardens.

“There is no need, my Lady.” She says, quietly, looking down at her feet. She’s old enough to be my mom, she shouldn’t be looking like I’m _better_ than her or some stupid shit.

“No, ma’am, there is a need. Thank you for serving us, and I apologize for not saying it when you first came in. Here…” I say, reaching into my coin purse and pulling out a large handful of coins, ones of varying value.

I don’t need them, not as much as her. I get food and boarding, along with the ability to keep anything I find on my missions. She needs this _much_ more than I do.

My head pounds, and she protests as profusely as she can without breaking the meek way she holds herself, but there is no way in the name of _Hades_ I’m not helping her. Bullshit conditions, I should yell at the Empress at some point after I get Orlais’ triad on the throne. No, I should rip her a new ass in a way that would make my parents _proud._

She leaves after that, and I sit up triumphantly. Stupid. This is _stupid_ and it’s _stupid as hell_ that that woman gets treated differently for the shape of her ear. Why is it intelligent life can never just play nicely with each other?

I then realize that my three companions are staring pretty heavily at me.

Varric is approving, Solas is _very_ approving, and Cassandra looks like she approves of my quick reaction to help and not getting hit for it this time.

“How does one stage a workers revolution?” I ask myself aloud, and then the silence isn’t there anymore, making me grin through my headache.

* * *

 

The party had been stressful, so I happily let Viv wisk me away to where ever, keeping my ‘smiley youth’ face on the entire time as I take in my surroundings.

She pauses at a window, so I do as well, tilting my head at her a little.

“It was nice of you to stop that man from before, though the verbal thrashing could’ve been a touch much.” I hum lightly, watching her smile widen a smidge.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, darling. The man deserved far more than a bit of frost bite and a tongue thrashing I’m quite sure.” She says.

I nod, glancing out into the night.

“Of course, the Inquisition always has use for those willing to help others.” I state.

Her smile widens at the corner of my eye.

“Oh? Well that does sound like a wonderful idea. Orlais does get boring sometimes, these summer months.” Viv says.

“Mhmm. The mountains could use more beautiful people, there’s mostly nugs and snow about.” I nod along. There’s no way she actually believes I act like this normally, but only Zeus knows who’s hiding around here to get some juicy gossip.

She laughs delicately. It makes me want to roll my eyes at her. I don’t.

“Well, how could I say no when you phrase it like that? Oh, it will take me a bit to pack though… I suppose I’ll meet you back at your mountain when possible?” Vivienne says.

“Of course. Shame you won’t be traveling with us, so few other mages to speak with.” I tell her.

It isn’t. I love Viv, she’s apart of my circle, but boy can she grate the nerves sometimes. Our views just… _conflict_ too much.

I leave with a tray-full of fancy cookies, carried by a subtly chewing Solas when we make our getaway.

* * *

 

It takes a week to get back to Haven. A very long week as I aches for a shower and a real toothbrush, as opposed to the charcoal toothpaste/rub I’d made in desperation. My mom makes _soap_. Do you really think I’m going to just suffer with gross breath and smell? No. No I will not.

It’s early morning when we get in, so I’m not as bone tired as I was last time I came back, but my first stop is the cabin the check on the kids.

I open the door and make a quick count.

Okay. All accounted for. Note, draw Birsa and lil’ elf’s cuddling later.

I drop my travel bags in the entryway and exit the cabin again, peering around at the few soldiers, scouts, and servants awake. Reminder, check on Cullen and make sure he’s sleeping.

…

He probably isn’t. Second reminder, get him some lavender oil.

I trudge through the fresh powder towards the Chantry, running two hands through my hair and nudging the small door open with my hip. It’s much warmer in here.

I continue through the war room, then Leliana’s tiny office she only uses for holding paperwork, and take the paper she sets aside for reports. My right hand goes down into my jacket for a pencil, and after some patting I pull it out and plop down on the floor. I slowly fill out all the important details of the trip with a book under my paper and drooping eyelids.

Panic attack, Lord Seeker is a serious dick, saved an old lady = + brownie points with everyone, recruited pretty blonde elf, bought some stuff and stopped an assassin, recruited fancy pretty mage, killed some Tevinter on the way back…

Light pokes to my forehead bring my back to consciousness, and I blink blearily at a purple gloved finger.

“Oh. Hey Le Le.” I murmur, reaching over and lightly patting her shoulder, feeling the muscles under.

Huh. Someone trains daily.

“Hello, Zoe.” She says, smirking from her crouched position with my report in hand.

“I’m just waking you for the war meeting.” She explains and I nod, slowly standing and stretching, hearing a few cracks.

I yawn. “Kay. Did my kids do anything dumb while I was gone?”

“They terrorized any circle mage we tried to have teach them, though that might be your influence.” Leliana says, and I grimace.

Ima have to talk to them about that.

We step out of the small room and into the war room, where a tired looking Cullen and furiously writing Josey are.

“‘Morning everyone. To start, I’m pretty sure we’ve got some Chantry support, and an offer from the mages to get their help.” I start, and from there the conversation gets a little…

Cullen is less set on the Templars after he heard about the old lady incident, not gonna lie. He barely likes me and he looked a little pissed at the actions.

Jose is happy that my plan worked out well, since she’s received letters about me and asking about me after my appearance at Viv’s party. She’s not happy about the two marriage proposals that’ve already shown, but Cullen and Cassandra are just as annoyed so I’m assuming it’s not that important of an _issue_ issue.

Leliana likes the new informants Sera’s brought in, She likes my punching gaining support, and she especially likes that I played the game. For the most part she’s usually happy about what I do. Alignment of interests I suppose.

There’s more debating about Templars or Mages, but overall the meeting was just to get everyone up to date, rather than make any serious decisions.

After it, Leliana holds me back.

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” She says and I nod, looking up at her.

“A few months before the Conclave, I noticed a sudden decrease in Grey Warden activity. I have a good few contacts in their ranks and none of them will respond or acknowledge my requests for information.” She explains.

Oh, Blackwall.

“You think it’s related.” I state, and she nods.

“I don’t want it to be so, but it is suspicious. I’ve tracked one Warden down to the Hinterlands, a recruiter named Blackwall. When you set out next I want you to see what he knows.” Leliana says.

“Got it. Oh, I forgot to ask, those towers got completed, right?” I say and she nods. “Just a few days ago. I’m also told the scouts sent to gather the supplies you spoke of were successful, so I have no doubt that Corporate Vale will be easily swayed closer to us.”

We part ways and I yawn again, hurrying through the Chantry, hoping that who I think is out there is out there.

I step through the doors and-

Ah. Krem a’ la krem.

“Ah, excuse me?” He asks, and I turn to look at him with a big smile.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been trying to get someone’s attention, but no one will listen to me.” He says with a sigh. I step to the side to let a elven lady with a huge basket of clothes through the door.

“I can take your message. What do you need?” I ask, and his face brightens. Such a. Best boy, right with Cole.

“I’m with a mercenary group, and our chief is interested in joining up with the Inquisition. We’re called the Bull’s Chargers.”

“Really? And where would you want to meet?”

“On the Storm coast. Chief’s heard some rumors about Tevinter activity up there and thinks it’d be a good place for a demonstration.” Krem says, and I nod along.

“Alright! We’ll be there in about a week and a half, I’ve gotta take my party out to the Hinterlands after that for a little.” I say. Krem looks confused for a moment before looking surprised.

“You’re the Herald!” He says, and I nod with a smile, looking up at him.

“So I’ve been told. You’re very handsome.” I inform him. He blushes. I count that as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One, I just realized that subscriptions are a thing and there are way more of you than I thought oh boy
> 
> Two, I finished this last night at like 3:30 AM so I’m praying even half of it makes sense
> 
> Three, finally got in some cassandra and i’ma link a pic I did of a comment. As soon as i figure out how pray for me
> 
> Heck it, I’ll just post it on my Instagram. @Fisticuffs_Mate 
> 
> I think that’s it? Question for the comments, what’s your understanding of Zoe’s personality?


	9. The Storm Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain is wonderful when you don’t have to worry about getting your stuff wet. The rest of Zoe’s party disagrees. 
> 
> Oh, and The Iron Bull is absolutely huge. _Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter._

The Storm Coast feels like home.

It’s humid, rainy, and there’s more rocks than in Florida, but it’s familiar. It’s familiar and it aches.

“You look entirely too happy in the rain, Smalls. Stop it.” Varric grumbles at me and I laugh. My sketchbook and stuff are shoved away in a waterproof crate, so I have no problem with getting rained on.

Varric does not agree, as he looks like a drowned cat. Cass looks majority indifferent and Solas is mildly inconvenienced.

A weird bunch, we are.

The wagon stops and I look around it’s cover and see a small camp partially kept away from the drizzle by an overhang.

Hopping down and test freezing the ground, I note how easy it happens. I melt it again just as easily, and walk over to a equally drenched looking scout Harding. We share small grins.

“Herald.” She says.

“Scout.” I reply.

“The Chargers are camped down below, taking care of the Tevinter problem their chief sniffed out. Quick warning for you though, he’s a Qunari. A _big_ Qunari. Besides that, there’s been mentions of a lot of cave spiders running around. That, and a Merc group called the blades of Hessarian are harassing anyone coming through. We sent some scouts to negotiate, but…” Harding trails off.

I grimace.

“I’ll look into it, Harding. Stay safe, alright?” I tell her, and she nods.

“Right back at you, Avery. I wasn’t joking about those Blades, _do not_ let them take you prisoner, kid.” Harding says, and my insides turn to ice.

Don’t let them take me-? Oh.

Shit. That fucker of a leader is even higher on my shit list now. Much _much_ higher.

Her and I share a bro arm clasp before our group and I start heading down the cliff.

“Are you alright, Zoe?” Cassandra asks after we’re quiet for a while.

“Yeah, just- don’t let me get taken prisoner. I don’t care how much my hand is worth, I refuse to do that. I don’t-” I cut myself off.

I’d rather die.

“We would not allow that to happen, Da’lath’in.” Solas says seriously, and the tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Oh yeah. I’m friends with a god. Keep forgetting.

My stomach still feels sick.

I’m tiny, soft looking. Easy prey.

I’d stuff them full of ice, then shock them.

We stop at the very edge of the fight, and focusing on that eases my nausea a little.

_Holy shit he is big. He’s a fucking giant._

I must’ve whispered it aloud, because Varric snorts.

Bull cracks skulls with his maul and attracts most of the Vints to himself, letting them come to him.

I watch in awe as he easily finishes off the Tevinter with his men. They all drop to the stoney ground and I blink when Bull turns to us and focuses in on me with his single eye.

Wonder how big his dick is.

I forcefully try not to burst into laughter at my thought process, and focus on the fact that I’m being analyzed by I lift up a hand and wave with a small grin.

Yes Zoe, show him how much of an idiot you are. _Wave to the fucking seven foot Qunari._

How even.

“Hey there!” He shouts, grinning back at me and pouring himself a drink, and I a drink. He hands it over and I’m pretty sure I’m facing a grey, tattooed wall.

I eye the amber liquid, take a sip, grimace, and set it to the side.

Bull laughs.

“A bit too bitter for you, huh? Well. Now you’ve seen the Chargers at work. Any questions?” Bull asks, and I let a hand run through my wet hair.

“Le Le’s handling the pay, right? I’m bad at mental math and Josey never lets me see her budget sheets.” I ask and he chuckles. Easy to please crowd?

“Yeah, your spymaster already settled that with me, but the cost isn’t important. What’s important is that you get _me,_ not just the Chargers. A personal bodyguard willing to fight anything. The bigger the better.” He says, and something about that bigger part sounds suggestive. Not towards me, of course, but in general.

I hum and tilt my head like I’m really contemplating it.

“We could always use more help, and the more the merrier.” I say simply, standing up and walking over to his sitting form, holding out a hand.

Her takes my hand very gently as I marvel about how _his entire hand is bigger than my face._ We shake on it, and forgetting that he sees me as I stranger I compare my hand size to his, awestruck.

“Holy shiz.” I mutter. “What kind of milk did you drink when you were a kid, and where can I get some?”

Bull laughs again.

“Nothing you could find this far south, kid. How’d you get so tiny?”

“Islander blood.” I say with an exaggerated sigh. “Curse you grandma, and your short height.”

“Islander blood? I heard you were Free Marsher.” Bull asks and I shrug.

“Grandma wanted off the Island, so she married a Navy boy.” Is what I say, like that’s all I need for things to make sense. It isn’t a lie.

My unease creeps back in as soon as we’re going through the woods on the cliffs, and little tendrils of frost come up my fingers. Logically I recognize I have four people protecting me and magic, but my brain also wants to tell me how many bad ways this could end. Which is apparently many.

Varric, being the aware man he is, stays close to me, shoulder to shoulder close, and I would hold his hand if he didn’t need to be constantly ready to draw his crossbow.

“Did you know if you shove a thumb in someone’s eye socket and push it to the side they’ll either seize or pass out? My best friend’s dad taught me that.” I say, awkwardly trying to fill the silence. The quiet gains more purpose when the three who’ve been with me realize that’s another nugget of my ‘mysterious past’ they haven’t heard before.

“Really? He ever used it on someone?” Bull asks.

“Nah. He was more of a ‘punch them until they pass out’ guy. He told me that cause I’m a bit small for that.” I say.

“Well, if a guy is ever up close and personal that works. Or scratch them.” Bull says.

“Mhmm. Varric says I grab my boot knife and stab ‘em in the dick first though.” I comment and half the group guffaws or snorts.

Varric because he didn’t think I’d tell anyone he said that, Bull because he got caught off guard, Solas is trying to fight a indulgent smile, and Cassandra makes Disgusted Noise™.

See, Varric had found out I didn’t own a weapon and lived too long around Lowtown to be emotionally and mentally okay with me not having one at all times. Thus, boot knife. Someone tries to grab me I stab them in the genitals and run.

Bless Varric.

“I would ask that you not corrupt the Herald, Varric. You already helped her with those blasted earrings.” Cassandra grumbles.

“Aw, Seeker, you know I was just an accomplice! How could you say no to that face?” Varric says, gesturing to my face. I snort.

“Besides, they look interesting! Just wait until I start asking our tattooed friend here who gave him his.” I pipe in, looking over at Bull and waggling my eyebrows.

“Please do not.” Cassandra says.

“Please do.” Varric responds.

The frost melts away on my fingers. _See? You’re fine. You will be fine._

* * *

 

I try hard not to cry when we step into the shack, but when I see the scouts-

“ _Oh no._ ” Varric says quietly, crouching down by them, checking fruitlessly for pulses. Cassandra is like stone beside me, and Solas beside her.

I roughly wipe at the wetness by my eyes and power walk over to the note on the table, reading it with blurry eyes.

“ _Fuck._ Fucking fuck.” I hiss, hands shaking. _You were expecting this, weren’t you? Why are you so pissed?_

Because I was hoping I’d be wrong. Apparently not.

“What is it, Da’lath’in?” Solas says, coming up beside me and gently taking the note from the table. His expression blanks for just a moment, before a dull ‘ah’ sound leaves his mouth.

“They’re dead, have been for a day or so, from the looks of it.” Varric says behind us. We should have came quicker _._

“And the men who did it left us a lovely note.” I say with an angry grimace. “Their leader is challenging _me_ to a fight, and they suggested making a amulet so I’d just be fighting him.”

There’s a momentary silence at that declaration.

“Can you use magic…?” Varric asks.

“Never said anything against it. Do I freeze him inside out?” I ask right back. I remember how big the guy was in game, though I wonder if I can pull a fanfiction and have Bull jump in? Maybe?? This is very bad. Oh god this counts as premeditated murder doesn’t it? Does it count if the feeling is mutual?

“Yes. You should. I would suggest lightning spells as well, _to be sure._ ” Solas adds, a dangerously blank face as he does so.

How the hell did I endear him to me so much? Was it the squeeze game? Eh, probably. That one tends to make people like me.

“Not to bump in, being new and all, but are we sure throwing a kid at a merc leader is a good idea?” Bull says, standing beside Cassandra with his arms crossed, back not quite to the door.

“It’s fine.” I say, trying for a reassuring smile that probably isn’t all that real looking.

The Qunari stares at me with his one eye, and I resist the urge to squirm. I get the distinct feeling that he’s unimpressed with my attempt at easing his worry. Really don’t blame him though, I don’t feel reassured in the slightest. I’m a little chick with very little combat experience outside of Thedas, and I’m not even sure how I’m going to feel about killing _doggies._

“Well, at least if I’m not you can probably get the hand, alright?” I say with a sigh, scrubbing a hand through my hair frustratedly. “I’m sorry, but he wants _me_ to fight him y’all. We can’t exactly lie and let the mercs get bound to some poor scout.”

Cassandra frowns deeply. “It is not an agreeable situation in any way, I agree. Come, let us head back to camp and see if they have any of the items needed for this _amulet._ ” The word amulet is said with such distaste I resist the urge to grin.

“Agreed, rain is letting up anyways.” Varric says tiredly, beckoning us out the door with his chin as he starts walking.

* * *

 

Stars, hundreds of thousands and a purple green nebula all stare down at me from where I lay on the cart.

The rain cleared out, though one of the local scouts easily points out that it’ll most likely be back in a day. I don’t care particularly much. I get to look up at a whole different galaxy of stars, and it’s beautiful. New constellations and new stars that peer down. They aren’t mine, not _my_ planet’s stars and sky and constellations, and it _aches_ , but this is nice.

“Enjoying yourself, kid?” Bull says next to me, and I turn my head to see him looking down at me from beside the cart, a smirk on his scarred face.

I hum and nod, reaching over slowly and lifting his arm up, peering at his hand again carefully. He doesn’t stop me, though I did give him a large window to do so, so I eye up the little and big silvery scars on his palm and digits.

“Wonder if I’ll ever get callous like your’s.” I murmur, my own hands _completely_ lacking the tough skin, weirdly soft even for my own world’s standards.

“Doubt it, kid. You’re a bit too soft for that much fighting.” Bull says with a small laugh, head half tilted as he watches my focused examination. “You this friendly with everyone you meet?”

I blush, because I do that stupidly easily. “Ehhhh, depends? I like being nice in general, but you’re nice too? And you don’t care if I stare stupidly at how freaking huge you are? I dunno.” My response is stumbled through, as I remember the guy has only known me for a day. I mean, how do you explain that you were already friends with a guy before he’d even met you? Not well, and certainly not this soon after you watch him crack Tevinter sculls in half with one big ass cleaver- _thing._

Though I highly doubt Bull would hurt me, not like that. He- that just wouldn’t happen.

_Then again, Cassandra had been pretty willing to throw you to the wolves, hadn’t she?_

Fuck off. _Stupid ass_ hormone driven doubts that aren’t relevant. No one was having a good time that day. Absolutely no one.

Oh, I should probably improve my relationship with Rodrick when we get back, huh? My whole avoiding people I don’t like isn’t really good for the keep people alive thing.

“Chief, what’re you- _Andraste’s tits_ , Chief. Why are you standing over the Herald?”

A wild Krem appears, and damn is he handsome.

Oh wait, _shit_ , _I said that oUT LOUD-_

Bull laughs roaringly, using his free hand to pat his second in the back, hard.

I pointedly don’t use Bull’s hand to cover my face. It ain’t my damned fault that everyone I know is hotter than hell. And that Krem is closer to my age. Mariana would agree-

I shove my sudden feelings down, _deeply_ , because I can work that out in the Fade and crying ruins moods.

“I swear to gosh I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, I’m just bad at not voicing surface thoughts.” I say quickly, sitting up and gently patting the young man.

“It’s fine! Just- was not expecting it.” Krem says, rubbing the back of his neck while Bull grins down at him, then at me.

“Oh really? Any other thoughts?”

I’ve dug this far, might as well make it to China.

“Literally all the adults around me are stupidly attractive, and I am woefully a teenager.” I inform him with a completely serious face. Quiet for a moment, and I start laughing, unable to keep it up.

“Not that I’d tap at this age anyways, I’m very smol and not responsible enough to trust myself with mature decisions like that.” I say with a dumb grin, patting Bull’s hand. “Ten years? Who knows. Anyways, I’m gonna go draw something.” I state, gently dropping Bull’s hand and scooting off the cart, towards my tent.

Did I just tell the Iron Bull that I’d tap that if I were older?

… Yeah.

* * *

 

I don’t want to talk about the spiders, or the creepy crawlies, so I won’t. The only statement I have is properly described in frantic, mental screaming.

Bull had fun though, so… good for him? Yeah. Focus on the positives.

Anyways, Solas almost gets stabbed more than usual, if that’s notable at all. It might be his elfy-ness, or the magic, but a lot of the people out to murder us almost get him more than once. Of course, the elf is as placid as ever, happy to stare serenely onward at the horizon after setting a pyre on fire for the people we… _handle_.

Am I worried for the mental state of a ancient god? Yes. Yes I am. Is he onto it? If the easy dealing with my constant hand holding and patting is evidence, probably. Solas is many things, and blind is not one of them. As to be expected with all those eyes, hahaha. Ha.

Ugh ™.

It’s stupid to care about someone who intends on absolutely ruining the world, but he’s still a person, regardless of that. One who _probably_ cares about me too? The man is a mystery, even with all my weird emotional intelligence.

“Ha’hren.” I state, watching Varric talk to Bull about horn balm and where the hell one gets it, while Cassandra tries very hard not to be interested.

“Da’lath’in.” Solas replies. I give him a withering look.

“What’s bothering you? Please don’t redirect it either, I know what upset looks like.” I say, watching his expression carefully. Not even a flinch, though he does smile and turn to look at me.

“Do you see through me so easily, so soon?” The apostate asks, and I snort. We’ve been in constant contact for almost two months now, I doubt that I could be less close.

“Apparently yes, Solas. Is it something you’d prefer talking about alone?” I ask.

“Ah, no. Right now is fine, I suppose.” He murmurs, taking a sweeping glance at our surroundings.

“I’ve not been able to get a more… _full_ nights sleep since we came here. It may be the frequency of rifts in this small area, I’m unsure, but it has not been an _enjoyable_ experience.” Solas says in that same quieter tone, and I can see a slight pull of frustration in his features. My hand goes to his, and I gently squeeze it.

“Then I guess we just close them.” I say just as quietly, smiling comfortingly. My marked hand glows a little from where it’s pressed against his. “Should be pretty easy. We’ve got a new, much bigger guy to help.”

Bull’s loud laughter starts up in front of us, probably at a joke made by Varric, almost on cue. Solas hums, and though he’s still frustrated, I can tell it’s not so much.

How the heck did he get so much closer so fast? Pack bonding? _Imprinting?_

Heheh, ‘ _YOU NAMED MY DAUGHTER AFTER THE LOCKNESS MONSTER?!_ ’

Dead meme, but still enjoyable.

A _very_ familiar roar sounds from behind us, and I call up ice on sheer instinct.

“ _BEAR!_ ”

Me and the original gang have freaking PTSD from the Hinterlands I swear to god. If I never see a bear again after this it’ll still be too soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guyssss! This one feels kinda boring? Idk, I’m biased being the person who wrote it. Anywaaays, good luck on your course recommendations??? Bye.


	10. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is dangerous. Never forget that, no matter the control a mage has over it.

The amulet weighs heavy around my neck.

 _Mercy’s crest_ , is what it’s called, a stupid name for it’s purpose. To negotiate and/or _challenge_ whoever is in charge.

This is all utterly stupid.

I walk through wooden gates with blades of Hessarian watching me and my party.

“They sent a kid?” Someone asks none too quietly. I agree. They did send a kid, the _kid volunteered ._

Bull is right at my back, looking intimidating and looking the part of a bodyguard. Which he is, of course. It’s easy to forget when you’re playing a game where he flies off with wild abandon, but every fight we’ve been in so far has been him watching me like a hawk.

We stop in front of a throne, with a monster of a man sitting in it. He’s got at least two feet on me, though Bull is taller, and he’s got a mean looking expression on his face.

“So you’re accepting my challenge, little girl? I’ll tell you what, if you lose I’ll keep you and that marked hand of yours for myself.” He says with a cruel grin. I try to shove away the ice in my stomach and the pressure pushing it’s way up my neck, and my eyes narrow dangerously at the older, bigger man.

Shove him full of ice and shock the ever loving _shit_ out of his body.

“I won’t lose.” I say quietly, and he laughs.

Jesus, I’m pissed at him but I’m about to _murder a person-_

Shut the hell up brain, he’ll do worse to us if we lose.

He stands up from his seat, and people move back into a large circle around us, including my companions. I roughly rub the growing ice off my fingers as rain drips off of me, watching the leader draw his sword in a large arch, making a show of it. I shift my legs, one forward one back, and my hands up by my face.

“Andraste guide the strongest blade.” A blade says up at the front of the circle, making a chopping motion with his arm. My opponent makes a quick slicing motion towards my chest, but I step out of the way quickly. With every tap of my feet to the ground a ice sickle shoots out of the moist and puddle ridden earth towards him. He dodges every single one, grinning ferally and sending swipes towards my shoulders and head.

“Quick on your feet, but how long can you keep that up, girly?” He asks, trying to stab me while I focus on his talking. I turn to avoid it quickly, but it cuts my light armor easily.

I have to get closer to freeze him from the inside, there’s too much water to focus on just him.

Remembering my dad’s advice on how to handle bigger opponents, I steel myself and get right into his guard, sending a ice covered punch straight to his groin.

_There._

The ice spreads and I watch in morbid horror as the water on him freezes, then I feel it freeze under the skin.

_I think I’m going to puke. Oh god._

He’s dead before he can do more than whimper.

Some people are cheering, I can hear it past the ringing in my ears. The ice melts away from my unmarked hand and I rub both my eyes as the body drops with a thump.

_That’s twenty seven._

A warm, calloused hand goes to my shoulder, and I lean into Varric’s side, looking up instead of at the body.

“You did it, kid.” Varric says, squeezing my shoulder and steering me away from the body. I wonder just how much what I did hurt. _Certainly wasn’t like a fucking paper cut._

I only hum in acknowledgement, looking back to the front and watching who must be the second in command coming towards me, Cassandra in the background pulling up the Inquisition banner on the flagpole.

“Good riddens, Herald.” Is what he starts with, and I idly ponder how long it’ll take for me to go back to camp and sleep. “The man was a pig and a disgrace to the Hasserian. The Blades are at your command, milady, hopefully for longer than that lout.”

I nod. “We can hope. I have scouts posted outside the fortress, they’ll be coming in as soon as they see our banner. We can talk more on what you’ll be doing as soon as they get situated.” I say quietly, never leaning away from Varric’s now half hug. The man nods easily, all while some Blades carry away the body behind him.

I ignore my watering eyes and let out a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

_“You’re a murderer!” My mother’s voice accuses, yelling and angry. It makes me want to cry because how could she be wrong? How could that be a lie, when I’ve been keeping count?_

_“My mom would never call me that.” Is what I say though, and it’s true. My mom would rather punch herself in the face than say that when she knew I already felt guilty. The demon behind me wraps its hands around the my neck warningly. “Are you so sure?” It asks, still using her voice._

_“I am.” I say quietly with complete conviction, gently placing a hand on dangerously tightening fingers. They don’t feel like her’s, but they look enough like them that the demon must have grazed a surface thought._

_“They would all hate you for what you are.” It says again, changing angles right in my ear, sounding so much like my little middle sister I could cry. At least I get to hear her voice._

_I smile a little. “No, they wouldn’t.” I murmur, gently patting the hands squeezing my neck as the demon hisses in confusion and frustration._

_“Give me your_ **_grief_ ** _.” It says, cutting off more and more of my air. I shake my head._

_“You don’t want this.” I say back, clasping one of the hands gently, rubbing a finger. “No one wants this, and I won’t let you have it.” I tell what must be grief or something like it._

_The demon lets go of my neck with a angry roar, and I focus on breathing. It’s not like I need it, not in the fade, but not being able to breath is unnatural and something I don’t enjoy at all._

_Something in me is angry, but another part is sad. Sad for this creature to live such a miserable existence, stuck feeding and feeling other people’s pain. I’d rather die than live like that._

_I turn and see the thing twitching, shifting through different forms of people in sorrow and pain and sobbing. I slowly reach out, ignoring the warning scratch I get on the arm and settle a hand on it’s shifting shoulder. It whimpers and hisses, but I settle another hand on its other shoulder, gently pulling it towards me._

_This is suicide._ **_Fool_ ** _. What use are you dead to the world?_

_I’ll be fine._

_I hug the demon, a hand going up and softly rubbing it’s ever changing, but now slowing, scalp. “I’m sorry you died and were left like this, buddy.” I mutter, ignoring what must be scratches hurting on my back. “I’ve got you.”_

_The wailing slows little by little, and I wonder what god thought it’d be funny to send me, Miss Let’s Save Everyone and Be Kind, to a place where people like me get chewed up and spat out. I’m going to die here._

_The shifting stops._

_I look up, and Peace stares back at me._

_“Oh.” Comes out quietly._

_“Hello.”_

 

* * *

 

“ _Da’lath’in!_ ” Is said in a hissed whisper.

I shoot up out of my bedroll, an ice sickle half formed in my hand before I blink and see Solas checking me over with a serious expression on his face, all from the flap of my tent. He’s wearing his sleeping clothes, and his lack of totem tells me he’s just gotten up.

The sickle evaporates.

“Hi?” I ask in a just as quiet tone, blinking sleep out of my eyes.

A smooth, pale hand lifts my chin and he stares intently at my aching neck, and eyes the freshly scabbed over mark on my arm.

“You were almost possessed, I could feel it.” The elf says, and I blink wetness away from my eyes. Oh. Right.

That- that actually just happened. Sweet Jesus, Lord and Mary. Did I purify a demon with a _fucking hug??_

I shuffle out of the bedroll and grab Solas’s hand, dragging him with me away from the quiet campsite and farther into the woods, stopping next to a large oak.

“ _Solas_.” I state, half panicking and grasping him by the shoulders.

“I just purified a _fucking_ demon by hugging it, and I’m not dead!” I hiss frantically, bouncing at the balls of my feet with wide eyes. His blue eyes widen too, staring at my green in shock. “It tried to possess you and you decided to _hug it?_ ” He responds, focusing momentarily on that issue before remembering _holy shit demon just got purified._

“How did you do it?”

“I-I don’t know? It was trying to take my grief and feed on it, but I didn’t want it to, I didn’t want it to feel like- like I do. So I spoke gently and hugged it because I felt bad.” I say, running fingers through my knotted, oily hair. “I didn’t mean it! Are you going to yell at me? I’m sorry.”

“Why on the fade are you _apologizing_? This is a major discovery! A feat like this- I’ve only seen it done with major preparations and people previously close with the once mortal. To do it with simple empathy…” He says quietly, looking at me like he sort of wants to study me. Not a good feeling. Though understandable considering the situation.

We’re quiet a moment, and I rub at my aching, probably bruised neck. Solas blinks and takes my hand from it, his own lightly glowing green as he holds it over my neck. The pain goes away, and I sigh in relief. I’ve already got back problems, I don’t need a stupid bruise on the list.

“Where else did it hurt you?” Solas asks, looking me up and down, dressed in a long shirt and baggy pants and decidedly blocking him from healing whatever the demon did.

“Boss?” Bull’s voice says nearby, and I snap my head in the direction it’s coming from. Can we trust him with this? Is he gonna assume Solas and I are on some secret lover thing? I need to go back to bed.

“We tell him?” I ask quickly and quietly, and Solas is completely still, as if weighing our options.

A slight nod. Probably for the better seeing as how suspicious this looks.

“Over here, Bull.” I say back, watching the large man appear silently. “Sorry to worry you, mage things happened.” I explain quietly before he can make weird assumptions.

I’d probably rather choke to death on cotton candy then have someone think I’m a thousands year old elf god’s latest fancy. No thanks.

“Mage things? You’re not going to explode, are you? Do you need the Seeker?” I flinch, because _definitely not._ She’d have a conniption fit that’s leave me shaking like a leaf.

“That is not needed, Iron Bull.” Solas says, hands clasping behind his back like he isn’t in the middle of the woods, barefoot, and in his nightclothes.

“Than what exactly happened, if you don’t mind me asking? Boss, your arm is bleeding.” The Qunari says.

“ _Not blood magic,_ before you assume.” I say quickly. “I was almost possessed and, uh, something weird happened.”

Bull’s expression turns a little Stoney.

“Possessed? Are you sure you don’t need the Seeker-“

“No. I somehow purified the demon by hugging it.” I say quickly, after he makes an aborted movement to start walking back to camp.

Now his face is blank, and Solas makes a small huff.

“Not the most eloquently put, but it does the trick nonetheless. A demon made an attempt to possess Zoe, she however looked at the creature with compassion and pitied it, leading her to hug it and subsequently purify it into a spirit. Am I correct?” Solas explains, then looks at me expectantly.

“Yeah, much better said Ha’hren.” I state, never taking my eyes off of Bull, trying to read the Qunari. Tense shoulders, twitching fingers- out of his element I suppose. Not really an issue he can smack with a maul.

_Stop that, it’s impolite._

“Alriiiight. Well, magicky shit isn’t really my thing, so… _congratulations?_ Right. I’m going back to watch, you two have fun with that.” Bull says finally, reaching over to pat my head and walking back, just as silently, to camp.

We both watch his retreating back in silence, until we’re sure he’s gone.

“Dodged an arrow there.” I say quietly, sighing.

“Agreed. We should wait until back in Haven to speak of this with Cassandra. Now, show me your arm and whatever else you’ve hurt.”

 

* * *

 

 

With the work we’ve done in the Crossroads there aren’t any Mage Templar skirmishes in it anymore, but there’s still the issue of too many people in one area with not enough tents and the essentials to go around.

It makes me want to do so much more than I can, but next time I’m in stupid Orlais I’m convincing some _stupid_ nobles to start donating towards recovery. They’ve got plenty of money anyways, might as well use it to help others.

Then again, I’ve been told I don’t really think with the same moral compass as other people, so fucking whatever.

I still give half my money to Vale. I don’t pay for much at all, besides the kids, I don’t need it as much as these people.

“Your efforts towards helping others are admirable, Herald.” Cassandra says as we start making our track towards where Blackwell has situated himself. I shrug.

“It’s what’s right. As long as that money goes towards making others happy, I have have no personal use for it.” I say simply.

“You’re a lot better of a person than I was your age, Smalls.” Varric compliments beside me, reaching over and ruffling my hair. I roll my eyes.

“Yeah whatever. You’re all good people.”

We shuffle up the hill that leads to the cabin Blackwall is staying in, and my eyes widen at how pretty it is. From the lake to the dock, to the cabin and the aesthetically pleasing trees.

Blackwall is drilling young men from what I can hear and see, and all five of us walk around and by the man. He suddenly spots us and walks up with a deep frown.

Something in me is a little cold at the sight of him.

He looks so much like my dad. It might just be the beard, it probably is, but one look at him brings up feelings I don’t have time to address right now. I wonder if I can get close enough to him that I’ll be allowed to hug him? Hugs are good. Hugs make everything better.

“Who are you? You’re not bandits, who sent you-?”

An arrow thunks into his suddenly raised sheild in front of my face.

_Oh shit. Right. We get attacked._

“We don’t have time for this- live, then we’ll talk.” Blackwall says, quickly starting to direct the men he’s training to use what they’ve learned. My companions quickly start handling the bandits attacking us, and I instead watch Blackwall fight with a critical eye.

I’m not some mastermind with the whole fighting thing, but he’s good, and you can see his formal training in the elegant sweeps of his sword- ones that remind me of fencing, though I might just be looking into it too much. Oh gosh I am not looking forward to judging him, I can barely look at the man without mentally associating him with my dad.

I’m so fucked up. I need a therapist- mom always said I need to quit with this bottling shit. Would Mr. Compassion be willing to listen? Probably. I’ll ask when I sleep tonight.

“Poor bastards. Now go on, you lot, you’ve proven yourselves to me and yourselves. Go protect your families.” Blackwall says, patting each of the guys’ backs, who could only be a few years older than me, when they pass him.

They all hurry down towards the Crossroads, talking with each other and looking back at us curiously a few times, one _actually winks at me._

Oh yeah, I’m a teenager with hormones, and so are other teenagers here.

I miss my girlfriend.

“So? What did you want?” Blackwall asks, looking at Cassandra instead of me. I shove down a happy laugh at the lack of spotlight on me.

Cassandra sends me an almost amused look though, so I take over anyways.

“We’re here to look into the disappearance of the Grey Wardens. We’re with the Inquisition, and you’re the only one that’s come up in any of the spymaster’s reports.” I explain to the man, crossing my arms.

“Well, I wouldn’t know much about that. I don’t spend much time with the other Wardens, seeing as I mostly do recruitment.” Blackwall says, lifting his eyebrows at me.

“Well that’s no use, we’re trying to find if they had involvement in the Conclave’s explosion.” I say with a sigh, reaching up and running my fingers through my hair as I watch Blackwall’s expression morph into agitated disbelief.

“The Wardens would _never_ be involved in something like that-“ He pauses, and takes a breath.

“I apologize, you’re not sure, or you wouldn’t be asking. I- I don’t know much of anything up to date right now, I don’t have to report in often enough to be.” Blackwall explains, and I nod along.

“Well, i suppose we won’t be keeping you then.” I say simply, turning on my heel and starting to walk away, the rest of my party following, vaguely surprised.

I count down with my fingers for be cool, and grin when I get the timing right, watching Varric chuckle a little beside me.

“Wait! Inquisition, wait.” Blackwall says, and we turn as he walks quickly, stopping in front of me.

“I may not know much, but I can’t very well sit around here doing nothing now that I know the Wardens are under suspicion. I’d like to join your Inquisition and hep figure this out.” Blackwall says, and I nod with a grin when he finishes.

“The Inquisition could always use a few more swords! Just come with us, we’ve got a camp nearby where I can see about getting a letter to Cullen on your joining.” I tell him. He blinks in a surprised manner.

“You’re a bit young to be a recruiter.” He says, and Bull laughs.

“That’s the Herald you’re talking to, Warden.” He says, and Blackwall makes a even more surprised face.

“Apologies my Lady-“

I make a face.

“No my Lady stuff please, I’m no noble. Just Zoe is fine, Blackwall.” I say. I’ve been trying since I became the stupid Herald to make people quit with the Lady crap, but it doesn’t seem to work. At all.

He nods, giving me and my party a clear once over, reevaluating whatever conclusion he’d come to before about what two humans, a elf, a dwarf, and a Qunari were doing together.

“Right then. Just grab your things and we’ll be off to the Camp.” I state. Blackwall nods. “Right, right. I’ll be just a moment.”

The bearded man walks swiftly away to the cabin.

Seven down, two more to go. The mere thought of the attack on Haven that comes with meeting one sends my shaky hands into my coat.

Should probably go over those escape plans again with Le Le when we get back. Maybe even a drill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one has been done since Saturday, I was just too lazy to fix it up for AO3 from google docs. Rest assured though, the one after this is coming soon. Very very soon. 
> 
> Do you guys want a extra book for randomness from this book’s universe, or like prompts for this? I have random one shots from this universe clouding up this book’s folder, so I’m thinking I might as well. 
> 
> As always, apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Big note, we’ve hit 200 kudos, and 150 subscribers! Still awed by all of you lol, I’m very happy to have you. 
> 
> (Hope you enjoyed the chapter ;D)
> 
> Edit: YO, so I was going through Project Elvhen and decided Da’lath’in was a better endearment for Zoe. 
> 
> Da’lath’in: little heart. An endearment used to describe someone who is emotional, carries their heart on their sleeve, is very empathetic, or very sympathetic to the plights of others. Typically used to describe a young person, but can be used for people of all ages who meet the description.
> 
> So, that has replaced Da’len. Ha’hren remains though, because Zoe only knows Elvhen from fanfiction and wouldn’t know other endearments. So yeah. There.


	11. Lovro’mae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was great until the feels attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeey. So yesterday was my birthday, and I think I’ve learned that posting bi monthly is entirely too hard for my lazy butt. So, if you hadn’t realized, this thing gets an update once a month, sometimes twice. 
> 
> Also I write this at 11:30 to 12 AM so you can’t blame me for the sudden angst. 
> 
> Warning: Suicidal thoughts, PTSD still, depression... other things? Sorry I’m running on 5 hours of sleep. Tell me if you see something I didn’t put in idfk  
> Found another one... More cussing than usual sorry

Solas and I decide to reveal the whole ‘ _purified a demon_ ’ thing to the triad as soon as the next War Meeting.

“What is this about, Lady Avery?” Josephine asks, and I take a glance over at Solas, who just keeps his serene smile.

I sigh, turn with my back facing the rest of the group, including those of us who had to come in to report, and lift the back of my shirt.

“My Lady what-” Josey starts, but Cullen cuts her off.

“Maker.” He says quickly, holding the shirt up for me and looking over the still red new scars on my back critically. “When did this happen?”

“During our trip from the Stormcoast to the Hinterlands, a demon of Grief attempted to possess Zoe.” Solas says, but Cassandra cuts in before he can continue.

“ _And you did not tell me?!_ ” She shouts, and though I can’t see I can tell she’s _probably_ pissed.

“We didn’t because I somehow purified the thing by _hugging it_. Solas came into my tent thinking the demon had taken me over, and when we went over the situation it made more sense to wait to tell anyone else.” I explain, turning my head as far as I can behind me to try and make eye contact with the Seeker.

“Purified? I was not aware that could be done?” Josey says, and I can’t see what she’s doing, though she’s probably still staring at the scratches on my back.

Apparently cuts made by demons heal slower. Joy.

“It is not common, _at all_. Zoe is lucky to be alive, let alone purify the demon intending to possess her.” Cullen says darkly, tracing one of the scars with what must be a frown.

“Badass, Boss.” Bull says, and I snort.

“This is _not_ a laughing matter, Qunari. She could have died.” Cassandra says scathingly, and I sigh, focusing on the wall in front of me, eyeing the cracks and grooves.

“Yeah, she _could_ have, key word. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like an achievement to me.”

“Thanks, Bull.” I hum, and he grunts in acknowledgment.

“So what you’re saying is the kid did something very rare, lived, and you aren’t fully sure as to _why_?” Varric asks.

“That is the gist, Master Tethras.”

“She’s been doing that since she went up the mountain, Seeker, this isn’t exactly _new_.” Varric follows up with. Cassandra makes an aggravated noise in the back of her throat.

I mean, it’s not like he’s wrong.

“I should have been told! I am a Seeker!”

“To be frank, Seeker Pentaghast, Zoe is not the most comfortable with any Templar, even you.” Solas says calmly, and I can practically feel Cullen stiffen behind me as he gently drops the back of my shirt. I let out a sigh and turn around.

“This conversation leads us nowhere.” Leliana choses to pipe in from her usual pillar. Cullen stands beside me stiffly, and it makes me feel bad. Of _course_ I’m not the most comfortable around Templars, they’re told from a young age that people like me are to be kept on a short leash or they go rabid. That doesn’t exactly foster good feelings.

“I agree. The point of this was to inform you all so no one sees obviously demonic scars and thinks I chose not to tell you about some wound. I’m alive, Peace is fine now, and nothing has tried to come for me since then.” I explain, before slowly placing a hand on Cullen’s arm.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault I’m iffy on trusting Templars about these things, you too Cass.” I say, looking between the both of them.

There’s a sort of uncomfortable silence for a few moments after that, then Bull starts walking out.

“Well I’ve had my fill of drama for the day. If anyone needs me, I’ll be watching Cullen’s men fumble around without him.” Bull says. Varric laughs. “Yeah, I’ve got to check over my mail and make sure the Carta hasn’t been trying to swindle me since I’ve been gone. I’ll see you real soon Smalls.”

And with that, the triad and I are left alone to go over what was new and talk about missions.

Fun.

* * *

Vivienne stops me on my way out of the Chantry.

 _Balls_.

“Afternoon, Madame Vivienne.” I greet, leaning my side against a pillar and watching her smile from her spot by her desk.

“Afternoon, Lady Herald. I’m afraid Haven was just as cold as you alluded to.” Vivienne says.

“I am a woman of my word. You’re settling well, I hope?” I ask, and she nods easily, but I can tell she wants to talk about something else completely. Oh dear.

“Most certainly, though there is something that has worried me. You’ve young mages in your care, yes?” She asks.

I resist the urge to frown, keeping my relaxed smile on my face and my eyes curling with it. I don’t want to talk about this with her, I can’t risk ruining my relationship with her this early on.

“I do.”

“Well, I’ve heard the oddest thing. You’re teaching them on your own? Without the help of a proper circle mage?” She says, concern on her face.

“I am, for the most part. Solas has helps some when I’m too busy, but majority I am alone.” I tell her, and watch her lips curl into a displeased frown.

“And who’s idea was it to put you and a Apostate in charge of such a thing? The children need a real education.” Vivienne says thoughtlessly, and this time I do frown.

“That Apostate and I are perfectly capable of teaching them, Madame. Learning in a Circle isn’t required to be a good mage.” I say carefully, watching her expression turn a little sharper.

“That’s absurd, darling. Besides, you couldn’t have awakened you magic more than a year ago, I doubt you’ve even had a _harrowing_.” She says, looking down at me with crossed arms.

“ _Harrowings are barbaric._ ” I say before I can stop myself, frowning deeply. “Regardless, my opinion on circles does not change that I’m the one taking care of them. I apologize that it bothers you, but the situation is perfectly handled as it is.”

She doesn’t like that, and I can tell she isn’t well acquainted with people shutting her down so quickly. She’s a grown woman though, and I don’t feel bad defending the inner circle’s and my own judgement. Solas may be as old as a Dino, but he knows magic _intricately._ Enough to seal up an entire facet of reality.

Now he may be a tad racist and set in his stupid ideals, but he knows his shit. _Apostate_ or nah.

“I am simply looking out for both your own and those children’s interests, darling. _I_ apologize if my opinion was unwelcome.” Vivienne says with convincing false ease. She probably realizes she can’t manipulate me, she _saw_ how not real that innocent act was, so why is my having my own conflicting opinions bother her so much?

“All opinions are welcome, if we didn’t voice them no one would go anywhere. I personally dislike the way the circle system is run, and though I dislike conflict, I’m willing to speak intelligently as to _why_.” I explain.

“Morning, Avery!” A elven man named Rynic says as he walks past, carrying logs to feed all the fire pits and the like inside the Chantry. My face brightens and I wave enthusiastically to him as he laughs. He’s a few years older than me, and actually _listened_ when I said I don’t like ‘Herald’ or ‘Lady’. “Morning, Rynic! Be careful with that axe, dingus.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, sure _lovro’mae_ . Tell your kids to quit going for my pockets and _ask_ me for the carvings instead.” He says, smiling despite himself. He’s a good guy, I’m glad to be his friend.

“Solas told me what that meant, you! Stop calling me out. I’ll talk to the munchkins.” I say with a pout, making a shooing motion with my hand at him as he walks off.

I focus back on Vivienne, who looks unamused.

_Baaaallls._

“Sorry.” Comes out sheepishly, and she sighs at me.

“We shall finish this conversation at a later date, it is clear you’re focused on other things. Should you need me, I’ll be here, away from the cold.” Vivienne tells me, and I take the dismissal for what it is, muttering a goodbye before hurrying out of the Chantry and into the cold.

“Holy fuck she wasn’t lying.” I mutter, pulling up my hood and hoping my ears don’t fall off.

The talk with Vivienne reminds me though that I’ve got to make sure Sera is settled and that Blackwall hadn’t been overwhelmed by the big ass hole in the sky. Heading towards the Tavern quickly, in an attempt to escape the stupid cold, I wave at anyone who acknowledges me. The door opens, and as it closes I let out a sigh of relief.

“Took ya long enough!” Sera says suddenly beside me, grabbing me by the arm and settling me down at a table.

I blink uncertainty.

“Oh, hi Sera.” I say, a smile pulling at my lips.

“‘Hi’? ‘S that all? Didn’t realize how ran to the bone they had you here, _Herald_ , else I would’ve came to get you myself.” Sera scoffs, looking me up and down.

“I’m sorry! I just keep getting thrown every which way, I didn’t mean to ignore you.” I say sincerely, leaning forward with a worried face. Oh gosh, does she think I don’t like her? Probably not? I hate talking to people, I haven’t been able to _hide_ for a day since I came here and I’m starting to feel run down.

“Piss, it ain’t your fault.” Sera waves my concerns off easily. “Just glad I was able to grab you now, tell you how absolutely insane you must be to have walked up to that _thing_.” Sera says, now vaguely gesturing off towards where the Breach is.

I can’t stop the grimace that comes up, and she catches it quicker than I can say anything.

“They _made you_?” Sera shouts, and I have to try not to shrink into myself when people turn and look.

“I was a prisoner, it wasn’t very much of a choice.” I say quietly in hopes that she’ll get quieter.

She doesn’t.

“That’s _balls_! You want me to stick someone full of arrows? You’re barely old enough to have tits!” She says loudly, and this time I cover my face in my arms.

“ _Sera._ ” I say in a suffering manner, muffled by my sleeves.

“I’m almost sixteen, Sera, why did you say that?” I ask.

I gain no straight answer.

“It’s that Seeker isn’t it? Saw you lookin’ nervously at her when she’s loud. I’ll prank the _shite_ out of her.” There’s an air of finality in her words that makes me worry enough to look up from my sleeves. There’s a dangerous glint in her eyes that tells me there is no stopping her.

“Really Sera, it’s fine. It happened almost two months ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. No one should be forced near that _thing._ Especially not little people.”

What is it about me that makes everyone jump to protect me? My baby face isn’t _that_ bad, and I’m not immature enough for people to assume I need my hand held. I hope this isn’t some sort of fade bullshit from me being the ‘protagonist’ or something. I know I’m not always likable.

Sera changes the subject to booze in a way that is entirely her, and I decide that questions like ‘why do these people care’ can wait for a while.

* * *

 

“Alright, how many of you did your breathing exercises?” I ask when I step inside my cabin, turning the corner and taking in the sight before me.

The seven kids are all scattered around the room, Birsa laying out on the bed with dark hair girl and red head boy on top of her, or at least until I walked in. They all sat up when they heard me. The rest of them are playing with carved animals on the floor.

I get a few immediate ‘Me’s but Birsa sends a annoyed look at a boy with brown hair and green eyes, and the elf kid next to him.

I give them a big sister look I’ve perfected over the years. Brown hair crumbles, but Elf kid stays straight faced.

“I didn’t.” He grumbles, looking away. “I did!” Elf kid argues with a big frown on his face.

“You did not. You were off with Erik every night and morning.” Birsa argues with narrowed eyes. Elf kid turns his head quickly over to her to stick his tongue out.

“Shut up _ox._ ”

“ _Hey_!” I shout, frowning at him. “Don’t be like that. I’m not angry or mad that you didn’t, I just want you to be honest. Apologize to Birsa.”

The others are looking between me and the dark Haired elf, though Brown hair ( _Erik_?) grabs the elf’s shoulder and gives him a look.

The elf makes a grimace, before turning and looking at the Qunari girl on the bed.

“Ir’abelas, lethal’lan.” He grumbles. Birsa rolls her eyes at him.

“Thanks, Arnarel.” Birsa says, before looking back over at me expectantly.

Arnarel mutters something in Elvhen to Erik, and to my mild surprise he responds in a rougher accent.

“Right. So I’ll be back for a while longer, at least a week or more. I’m just trying to see who’s like me and sucks at doing things when they’re meant to.” I explain slowly, plopping down in my desk chair facing the kids.

“Really?” Dark hair girl asks with wide eyes. Guilt sort of wells up in my stomach. Vivienne was right that I shouldn’t be the kids’ main caretaker. It’s unstable at best and some of them are young young kids, elementary school aged. Can’t exactly do much now, they’ve shown very little willingness to learn from any circle mages Leliana sends over.

Which I should talk about. Right now. Like… a adult.

“Yeah kiddo, I’m back for a while. Really.” I give her the brightest smile I can muster and she responds in kind, half hidden behind Birsa.

“Also. What’s this I’ve been hearing about scaring teachers away?” I ask, making sure to make eye contact with all of them. The older ones pull up poker faces or look away.

No one says anything.

“Guys. I know this whole situation is terrible. I know that you want something more stable, but you need to listen to the mages from the circles.” I say gently. Either they’re doing it to take out frustration and/or took something they heard me say and acted on it in a wrong way. Both situations require firm, but _calm_ handling.

I’m too young to be a mom. I just want to go home and play Minecraft.

“You said the circle mages were stupid.” Birsa tells me seriously. My eyebrows lift in surprise.

“I don’t really remember saying that. I don’t agree with the way mages in circles were taught, but they’re not stupid by any means.” I explain. “They still have things to teach you that could be valuable. If you can learn from more than one source of information, you can get a clearer view of the whole picture.”

My anxiety spikes.

“Also, please don’t ever say that again. At least not near adults. People will think I’m teaching you blood magic and Templar hating.”

“They’re arrogant though.” Arnarel says with a deep frown.

I wave for him to continue.

“Two of them openly talked bad on Solas Ha’hren, one talked about how he was a ‘dirty hill witch’ communing with demons.” He says communing a little slower than the other words, and has to take a second to articulate himself right, but I get the gist.

Well. That’s problematic. I don’t doubt the same guy was probably unhappy that a ‘apostate’ had gotten such a big role in the inquisition while the other mages were being handled with gloves. Cullen’s battle mages don’t live away from the main encampment anymore, but they’re in a specific area with strategically placed ex-Templar’s tents nearby.

Yeah. I’m not a idiot, I can tell when Cullen is trying to pull a sneaky. Even if Leliana made her ‘smile threat’ face when she said it would be beneficial to keep all the troops together.

Oh. Cullen probably sent those numbers to me, didn’t he? I should probably check that stack of papers on my desk- correction, _two_ stacks of paper on my desk.

Gosh have mercy.

“Did you tell the Leliana?” I ask. Birsa nods as Erik asks Arnarel a question(?) in Elvhen.

“I heard he was moved to work for Adan.” Birsa says simply.

“Well, that’s good at least. Anyways, that’s part of the ‘how they were taught’ thing I was talking about. The Chantry teaches it’s mages that the circle is the only thing keep the rest of the world and themselves safe. Someone actively living outside of the circle and being a good mage doesn’t really help the mindset the Chantry creates. Do you get it?”

I get nods from the bigger kids but I can tell I’ve bored the younger ones.

“Right. How about we all go the the tavern soon before the lunch rush, and have a talk on getting caught with your fingers in other people’s pockets. If you want to pick a pocket, _don’t get caught._ ”

* * *

Breathe. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three.

Snow crunches underfoot and the moon reflects a little off of the fresh powder. I focus in on the visible puffs of air leaving my mouth and the half awake men at the gates. Tonight lightning is crackling off of my fingers and hands, so I keep them shoved under my arms and with fluffy gloves firmly pulled over them.

That was a not fun nightmare. One of the… more _mild_ ones, but still overall not a good time.

I let out a big yawn, eyes narrowed in exhaustion and my back, shoulders, arms, and legs aching. Basically everything is shitty right now.

I look around, and to my surprise spot Bull and Blackwall sitting by a fire near their tents, with mugs of ale in hand.

I look up at the moon.

It’s like three in the morning what the fuck.

I look back over at them, try and calm the trembling and sparking of my covered hands, then start towards them at a slow slow pace.

“Why the hell are you two still awake?” I ask quietly when I get close enough.

“Could ask the same question to you, Boss.” Bull responds as Blackwall tries to stand up with a grave ‘my lady’.

I wave him off and plop down on a turned over log, right next to Bull. Who still has no shirt on?? His nipples must ache like a bitch.

Blackwall sits down uncertainly.

“I’ve got an excuse. Lovely lovely nightmares.” I respond with a faked smile and finger guns.

Bull rolls his eye at me.

“So do I. I like a nice drink after a good fuck.” He says simply and Blackwall chokes on his drink.

“ _Iron Bull.”_ He says red in the face, gesturing towards me. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“I know what sex is, Warden, don’t worry. No innocence lost here. What I do want to know though, is if Bull ever bottoms.”

Bull opens his mouth to respond, but Blackwall makes a noise that makes it clear he _doesn’t_ want to know.

“Alright alright. Fine, we’ll be kid friendly. How are those kids of yours, Boss? Spotted them when I came into the tavern earlier tonight.” Bull asks, and I shrug my shoulders.

“They’re good. Apparently none of them knew how to pick a pocket right and I had to show them, or else a friend of mine will keep talking smack about them getting caught.” I explain, gesturing with half awake awareness and abandon.

“A wonderful influence.” Bull says with a nod, then takes a swig of his drink.

“Sorry to ask, but what children?” Blackwall asks peering curiously at our exchange.

“I take care of kids who got left orphaned by the Conclave. More specifically the ones who’ll probably get magic or already have it.” I respond. Blackwall nods, though there’s this look on his face that makes me think he’s reevaluating me. Again. He’s been doing that since we left the Hinterlands.

“That is more than admirable.” Blackwall says simply, and for a moment I see my tanned, smiling dad complimenting my art instead.

Only for a moment. Then it’s gone.

I know what I do is what’s right, what should be done. I’m not a blind idiot though. I know it’s work. I know it's crazy to literally give your money away, offer your life to save a world that isn’t yours, chose to watch over kids with special needs, chose to keep going after losing everything.

I’m suicidal. I’m self sacrificing. I will bring my death over my head with a smile. It’s not healthy. What do I have to lose though? As long as I make it long enough to either stop Solas or ‘figure out’ his identity, what does it matter? What does it matter if my bones break, or if aching scars lay on my back, or if I want to scream?

I’m tired. I’m so, _so_ tired.

I won’t bend though. Life isn’t easy. Life isn’t _meant to be easy._ What are the good parts worth if you don’t know how good you’ve got it? If you can’t be relieved that despite the hardship you will see good?

I haven’t responded. Blackwall looks awkward.

Heat flushes up my pale cheeks, and I cover my face in my hands.

“Sorry. I’m not doing good right now. Thank you, thank you very much.” I say, muffled by the dark, thick gloves on my fingers.

“I’m not one to talk, but you should be in bed, Boss.” Bull says, before taking a loud chug of his huge mug.

Something like annoyance, _that is annoyance don’t be stupid brain_ , pools at my throat. I ignore it and shove it down harshly. Getting irritated does nothing, especially yelling at other people.

“I know that. Malice and another Grief are a bit against a good rest at the moment though.” I inform the men instead, roughly rubbing my face and ignoring the few tears falling out of my eyes. It’s so frustrating, not being able to just sleep without worrying that something with your loved ones faces is waiting to make you miserable.

I want to go home.

Thick silence.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Blackwall asks quietly.

Do I?

I don’t like talking about my problems. I never have. I have this complex where I think I’m a burden and I don’t want to make things harder. Great for saving money, not for when your self esteem takes a hit every time you need something.

My fists clench.

Fine. Fuck it.

“Sure.” I say, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to think through my next words.

“I’ve killed people. Sometimes I go to sleep, and demons wait with my family’s faces and tell me how terrible I am. Sometimes…” I trail off.

“You don’t have to-“ he’s quiet like my dad.

“It’s fine. I should talk about it anyways.” I cut in aggressively, before sighing and rolling my tense shoulders.

“Sometimes, I’m in the dark in chains. It smells like lightning magic and a Seeker- a Seeker stares down at me with so much hate. I can’t move. I can’t speak-“

I rub my face again, cutting myself off and going silent. Guilt rolls in my gut, along with regret. That was too much. This will mess things up. I’m such a whiny bitch.

_Shut the fuck up brain we need this._

Says the idiot talking to herself.

I curl over, leaning against my knees and looking down at the fire with tightly shut eyes.

Why am I traumatized by that? I’ve been yelled at before. I’ve been talked down to.

It’s probably the threat of death. The threat of a much bigger person with a weapon having me at their mercy. Her utter willingness to hurt me at the time.

“What exactly was done to you, before you were brought up the mountain?” Bull asks in a conversational tone.

“I woke up in chains. Cassandra came in, yelling. I wouldn’t look at her, she grabbed me- uh. Then she let me go and stepped back. We went to the northern camp, after that.” I say quietly, trying to ignore the fact that I’m having to evaporate ice from inside my gloves. My hands tremble.

This sucks. Not cash money. Not cash money at _all._

“That’s bare bones.” Bull says dryly, and despite myself I let out a sort of watery laugh.

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t want to end up on the floor in tears or something. Happened once on our way to Val Royeaux.”

“I cannot believe the inquisition still allows you out on the field.” Blackwall says quietly, but there’s a unmistakable anger in his voice. I shoot up, blinking away some stupid tears.

“No! No it’s fine! It’s not their fault, I’m the only one with the hand, y’know? I mean, I’d probably offer to get it cut off if there were a way to keep it stable, but- it needs a host. It’s how it was made.” I explain nervously. “I’ll be fine. It’s the rest of the world that needs saving.”

I get decidedly unimpressed stares.

“I’m not the Seeker, Templar, Red or Ruffles. I won’t eat that bullshit up and grin, Boss.” Bull says with a blank look on his face, before shrugging and taking another drink.

“But if you want a yes man, I’m definitely being paid enough to do that.”

I swallow.

“It’s bad, ain’t it Bull?” I ask quietly, arms coming up to hug myself. I know it’s bad. I know. I really really do. “But what’s some random ass teen in comparison to the world? If it weren’t me I’d be _horrified_ for the person, but it is me. And I have to be fine with this.” I say seriously.

“I’m a fucking- I’m not the person I was before this mess anymore. I can’t smile and laugh like I used to. I’m damaged goods anyways, and I’d take this for other people anyday. Doesn’t- I’m- _Fuck_. I’m taking a walk. See you guys in the morning.” I stand abruptly and start hurrying off, clutching myself. I rip my gloves off and ignore Blackwall’s low cry of “Herald!” behind me.

Fire and ice war at my fingers and sparks crackle with every footstep. I walk deeper and deeper into Haven’s surrounding woodlands and past a fire scarred pine tree, focusing in on another even thicker one.

Without pause my right leg swings up and my shin connects with a solid, hard thunk.

This… is not a healthy way of dealing with emotions.

Lightning arches up and down the tree, and I send two jabs it’s way next.

At least it ain’t a person? Yeah. Yeah let’s think of this that way. No one being yeeted with a song of fire, ice and death is a good thing. A very good one.

I keep punching and kicking until my muscles ache, my knuckles and shins are bruised, and my fists are bloodied. Not sanitary.

I’m panting and let the sound of a wounded animal leave my throat before dropping to my knees, sniffling and exhausted.

What’s the point of this? Is there a point to it? Maybe I’d just be better off slitting my throat and being done with it. I’ve got one shoved in my boot right now.

Varric would be destroyed if I _offed myself_ with the dagger he gave me.

Oh god.

I’m contemplating suicide.

I swallow with my aching throat and shut my wet eyes tight. I hope this gets better. I hope with all of my heart and soul this gets better.

I’m a depressing fuck, aren’t I? I need a hug. I need an adult. I need help.

Help.

I stand shakily, pull on my dark gloves and start towards the gates again. I don’t even glance at the now empty and put out campfire, and don’t acknowledge worried and tired looking guards at the gates.

I hurry quietly through the tiny village and stop in front of a door.

I knock, and flinch when my hurt knuckles hit the wood.

There’s a silence for a few long moments, but a candle lights and Solas opens the door.

He takes me in, completely alert and with narrowed observant eyes.

“Come in, Da’lath’in.” He murmurs opening the door wide and gently leading me inside by the shoulder.

“Thank you, Solas.” I murmur back in I think the most exhausted tone I’ve ever heard.

“You are always welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter question...
> 
> Got any one shot or something requests?


	12. Solas gets some Screen-time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas gets to angst, Zoe hates alcohol, and maybe some depression?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took way to long for such a short chapter, and I apologize for that. The next one will be much longer in compensation I assure all of you, I simply wanted to get this out as fast as possible so you guys can get something after a month and a half long wait. Here’s a positive, though, we get a shift in point of view! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, even if it took longer than normal. I promise more frequent updates once I start summer break, but I’ve got three more days till then.

Solas has lived so long. He is old now, he feels it in his very bones, that weight adding to the heaviness left behind by all of his sins. 

Zoe is a child compared to him, an infant he has unintentionally marked with power meant to pacify and then destroy Corypheus. It will kill her, he knew that from the moment people were told a woman fell from a rift with a glowing mark on her hand. 

She was so small when she was lying in the cot they  _ allowed _ her in that dank dungeon. Dark brownish blonde hair and features soft with youth. A child. She is a child. 

But he pushed through then with a healer’s precision and cool calm. She was a vessel and she would most likely die closing his year of work. It was best to disassociate and see her as just another human. She looked like she’d never worked a day in her life, a soft noble’s daughter most likely, who probably sneered at any beneath her. 

Yes. That he could work with. 

Then, though, he saw her as she followed the Seeker storming through the Valley. Pale, shaking like a leaf, and with tear tracks down her sooty face. 

Solas has done a many of bad things in his endless life, killed and locked away the people closest to him, destroyed his civilization, murdered and pillaged with a smile in his youth. Something about seeing this child jump into action and save the dwarf he’s been fighting with like her life depends on it fills him with a deep loathing. 

Once he speaks to her it gets worse. 

She is not a self absorbed nobleman’s daughter like he had deluded himself into believing. Zoe was selfless, she cried silently a majority of the time they were walking but not a single sound escaped her lips until she attempted to seal The Breach. 

She was a better person than he, likely, though it was not a very high bar to cross anyways. 

Solas presently does not like how often she is hurting herself. 

With practiced and gentle pale hands he settles a thick paste over her knuckles after cleaning them. Solas notes every uncomfortable twitch, every sniffle, every tense of her shoulders. Her eyes though, stay watery and stare blankly at the wall in front of her. What is she thinking of, at this very moment? The blessed Herald of Andraste, a teenaged and broken girl sits on his bed and yet he feels like he knows her only a little better than he did in that valley. 

How long ago was it that he let someone come so close to him? He wonders if his friends in the fade count truly, after spending so much time wandering the plane that he’d cut off from the world he doesn’t know if he would have told the spirits that inhabit it his secrets willingly. 

Not to say that he has told Zoe any. No matter the warmth and guilt she inspires in him, his plans come first. They always will. 

“I’m sorry,” A quiet voice says. Internally he wants to bang his bald head against the wall. 

Her insecurities are plain for many to see, a easy tell being her constant apologies. 

“Don’t be. This is not your fault,” Solas responds in a quiet tone, reaching for a cloth and wiping his hands clean of the salve. He watches her face crumple a little, and a few fresh tears fall from her dark green eyes. Darker than the Breach, colored like a forest and expressive. 

The guilt and loathing rears its head again, sharp and biting into his throat. He makes not outward reaction to it. 

“You say that, but I still feel terrible,” Zoe tells Solas with a shaky smile. “I’m sorry for waking you, then. You have research due in by tomorrow afternoon, right? For Leliana?” 

Ah. The research. Pages of half baked theories with sprinkles of truth for the spymaster to read and prove they’re getting somewhere at least. Solas finished them weeks ago in the wilds, though he doesn’t blame Zoe for not noticing. She’s one of the most observant people he’s met and yet the smallest details will slip her focus. Names especially. 

He is glad to be turning those papers in finally, though. Perhaps it will keep Leliana’s prying eyes away from the spies he is slowly planting in the Inquisition. 

“Yes. It’s not a bother at all, though, I finished them a while ago. You, though, have a good few papers piling on your desk I’ve been told,” He says with a small smile, remaining in his crouched position. Solas watches almost comical dread begin to take over her features, but it is a improvement from her tears and fear. 

He is not a normal elf. Fear? Fear he can smell. 

“Paperwork is evil, yet necessary. It’s my own fault for wanting to be important,” She says with a sigh, roughly rubbing her tired eyes. 

He’s quiet for a moment. Thoughts quiet. . 

“You think your role here unimportant?”

The role that gave her the bandages on her knuckles. The role that makes her shake and cry after battles. The role that fixes his mistakes at every turn and gives her power and sway over the inquisition?

There is no way so much grief could be for such small importance. Not in any reality he could imagine. 

She must see the thoughts on his face. Solas hasn’t a clue how she does it, picking up on ticks he’d thought he’d smoothed out years and years ago. 

“You are very important to the very success of the inquisition,” Solas says slowly, almost disbelieving. Zoe’s face flushes and she fumbles for a moment. 

“I know that! I’m just- I- Self confidence has been an issue these past few weeks. Trust that I know, Ha’hren.”

Solas only bows his head in acknowledgment for a moment. 

There’s a uneasy silence interrupted only by the crackling of fire in his fireplace. 

“Can I have a hug, Solas?” Zoe mutters quietly, wringing her hands anxiously. 

It is foolish to be so affectionate. To create a bond like this with the child. 

Solas nods. He hates himself with every moment her warm arms are wrapped around his neck, and he rubs her back. He cannot beat back the contentment that comes with it, regardless. 

* * *

 

I don’t like going to the tavern at night. 

It’s the alcohol. I know it couldn’t be anything else. I’ve never had a good relationship with it, and I certainly won’t gain one spending time near drunk soldiers. 

Varric wants to hang out though, and with his back turned to his papers he can’t see the way my jaw clenched and my lips thin. It’s fine. I’m okay with him having fun, I’m not going to be a bother to the only adult a truly trust here. 

_ Solas can’t count. I wish he could, but he really and truly can’t. He  _ **_lies_ ** _.  _

I step inside while it’s loud and almost turn right around. I don’t do well in small spaces with lots of people I don’t know. I keep going though, to the table Varric keeps right by the fire. He, Sera, and surprisingly Blackwall are sitting there, talking about something that involves hand gestures from Sera. 

I’ve killed people, fought demons and survived. This is stupid easy in comparison. 

_ Except it isn’t.  _

I practically fall into a chair beside Blackwall, facing Varric and Sera. 

“Evening,” I greet. Blackwall gives me a nod in response, eyes trained on me critically. It’s like my Dad trying to pinpoint if something is wrong or not from sight alone. The way his eyes narrow tells me he’s already checked off ‘something is wrong’. 

“Eveninggg, Zoe. Tell me, is it just me or is Blackwall’s beard too well groomed?” Sera slurs, eyeing the man’s beard suspiciously, palms planted flat on the table. 

Drunk people. Oh boy. 

“I dunno. My dad’s was like that,” I say as quietly as I dare in the loud tavern. 

“Really now? ‘S that why you look at him like he killed your Mabari?” 

Fucking hell Sera. 

“Fucking hell, Sera,” Varric voices for me, pulling away her cup. “No more for you. Don’t say shit like that.” 

Sera has to blink once before realizing she said that aloud and slumping in her chair. Pouting. She’s only a few years older than me, but sometimes I feel like I’m more mature by years. 

“How’ve you been Smalls? Dent that paperwork today?” Varric asks. I nod. 

Flissa comes to our table. 

“You need anything, darling?” She asks me. 

“Some water would be nice, thank you ma’am,” I tell her. She flushes. 

“Don’t ma’am me, dear.”

“My mama taught me manners, Miss. Flissa. I will give you the respect you deserve,” I huff back. She sighs, but not in a bad way, before hurrying back over to the bar. 

“When they think back on the Herald, they’ll remember her manners,” Varric says with a laugh, and I pout at him. 

“They’d better use it as an example. Be respectful to others, people giving you things especially,” I explain. I’m the person who scolds my friends for not saying please and thank you to lunch ladies. Why in the world would I stop now?

“But yeah, I did about half of it. I intend on getting the rest done tonight if I can. I’ve ran the numbers, and there’s a stupid pay divide between battle mages and soldiers doing the same hours. Of course, the battle mages may be doing less physical work, but I’m going to have to work it out with Josephine sometime this week.  _ Then  _ deal with Cullen’s racist ass-“

I cut myself off and cover my face. Why did I just say that? I’m a terrible person. 

“Racist?” Varric asks, genuinely interested. 

“It’s essentially racism, the divide between mages and not magic people. It’s a pain working with Cullen on it, and it makes me feel bad to say that,” I explain slowly, trying to rub the embarrassed flush away from my face. 

“That’s cause mages are fucking weird, Zoe. Look at  _ Elven Glory _ . Weird fade-y shite,” Sera adds in. 

“I’m a mage, Sera. My mother’s family had a lot of mages going way up the family tree. Apologies if it bothers me that I’m treated like a second class citizen on the basis of something I can’t control. Or I would be if I didn’t have a  _ stupid fucking mark on my hand. _ ”

_ Oh. That was mean _ . It’s a very quiet thought in comparison to my biting statement. 

To clarify, I don’t have people who could do  _ magic _ magic in my mom’s family. They came from a line that supposedly had been voodoo practitioners, though, and there’s been honest to god frequent possession problems with my Filipino family. Not something I’ve had to deal with, but again, Tarot cards always work for me. A freaky freaky thing. 

This outburst and attitude is mostly stress, being in an uncomfortable situation, and frustration. Logically, I can understand that. It doesn’t excuse that it’s childish when I was just saying in my head how mature I am. 

Goddamn I’m a piece of shit. 

_ Fuck off.  _

“ _ Well sorry,  _ **_Lady Herald_ ** _.  _ Didn’t mean to get your fuckin’ knickers in a twist,” Sera spits, getting up and stomping off, chair screeching when it rubs against the floor harshly. 

Oh no. I’ve done a bad thing. 

“Sera, wait! I’m sorry!” I say quickly, but not getting up to follow her. She’s prone to getting angrier when you pester her with apologies, I can tell. 

I fucking hate alcohol. Why am I here right now?

“Well. That escalated quickly,” Varric says, taking a swig of his ale. 

“Agreed,” Blackwall says. They both look at me. 

“I’m sorry. I ruined things,” I say, sinking down in my seat. 

“Don’t blame yourself, Smalls. She was out of line in the first place. Let’s just let her deal with her feelings awhile,” Varric says simply, waving his hand in the direction she took off. I really hope she doesn’t mess up my desk. If it gets messed up I’ll have to do all that math again and I’ll burn more than a tree. 

Chantry burning wouldn’t endear me to anyone. Think positive. 

Two drunken soldiers stumble past singing about women with big boobs. 

This is terrible. 

“So. You ever played wicked grace, Zoe?” Varric asks. I shrug. 

“No. I’ve played Mau, but I really doubt you’ve ever heard of  _ that. _ ” 

Varric pulls a deck of cards out of nowhere, and starts dealing. “Ah. Well I suppose I’ll just have to teach you. You in, Warden?”

Blackwall nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Spoiler, I’m not very good at Wicked Grace. But the grin I’m sporting at the end of the night is worth it. 

* * *

I wake up the next morning to bustling kids and a sun just rising. 

My muscles ache, my bones ache, and despite it all I really just don’t want to get up. Don’t want to talk to anyone. Don’t want to do anything other than lay in my lumpy bed under my sort of itchy covers. 

I’m tired. In a way that isn’t just physical, to be honest. I’m surprised I made it this far. 

At least I’m not crying. I’ve had enough of that nonsense to last a lifetime. 

I keep my eyes shut tightly and sigh through my nose. 

“Zoe?” Is not so quietly whispered in my ear. A little hand finds itself on my chest and pulls at my shirt, shaking me a little. “Are you okay?” 

I open my eyes just barely, seeing who’s interrupting my probably depressive feelings. 

An ashy blonde haired elf stares back at me, dark eyes wide. Vavra is what I think her name is, and I’m disappointed in myself for not knowing for sure by now. 

“No. I’m dying. You’ll have to go on without me,” I say completely seriously, though my perfect tone is ruined by my hand reaching up and ruffling her soft hair. 

She grins. “No you’re  _ not _ !” 

Technically I am, considering my bomb of a hand, but that’s just another unfortunate technicality in this situation. 

“Truly? Well thank you for telling me, I was certain I wasn’t going to make it,” I inform the six year old, before forcing myself to sit up and stretch my arms. I’m not allowed to wallow. I’ve only got a week to make sure the kids get some more knowledge in their heads and don’t blow themselves up. 

“You don’t make sense,” Vavra whines flopping over my coveted legs and kicking her legs. “What does certain mean?”

“It means that I was sure,” I explain before picking her up and setting her to the side so I can get out of bed. She flops over again, grabbing one of the pillows and hugging it to herself. 

Her nose scrunches up. 

“Why’d you think you’re dying?” She asks. 

“Forgot I had legs,” I inform the little elf. She makes a face that shows exactly how she feels about that. 

“You can forgot your legs?” She asks seriously. I contemplate whether it’s responsible for me to say yes or not. 

It isn’t. I only barely stop myself. 

“No. I’m just weird.” 

I grab my clothes out of a small chest at the end of my bed, and throw off my shirt. 

“What’re we learnin today?” 

I tug on my undershirt and hum in contemplation. What should they learn?

I should probably make sure they can read. Yeah, great plan making Zoe, you’re just the best at this. 

“I’m making sure you guys can read,” I tell her, pulling on a long sleeved over shirt. It doesn’t seem to be as cold this morning as it was yesterday, so I’ll probably forgo my heavy jacket. 

“I know how to write my name,” Vavra informs me, hugging the pillow to her chest and rolling on the bed. Freaking kids man, they do the cutest stuff. 

“That’s good! If we’re lucky I might be able to teach you more by the end of today.”

With myself properly clothed and Vavra hopping off the bed, we’re ready to go out and brave the icy north- er. South. I’m in the south right now. 

Teaching kids to read. How hard could that be?

I make it a point to knock on my doorway as we leave, suddenly worried about jinxing myself. It’s be just like me to have a hard time with that. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hey, also, if you wanna ever talk just hit me up on instagram @fisticuffs_mate . i love talking to you guys and i post bad art too)


End file.
